The Great War
by pellenorfields
Summary: A time of peace following the defeats of Cluny and Slagar is in danger of being shattered as a new enemy rises with the mindset of laying waste to not only Redwall but everywhere that is good and true...hordes of vermin gather under banners and cause chaos over the entire land... Following the intense personal struggles of heroes and villains alike, watch war unfold...
1. Chapter 1

The Matthias and Methuselah bells rang out over Redwall Abbey. Today was not just any day, for it was the birthday of Matthias the Warrior! He was quite old, completely grey of fur and hard of hearing, but he thought he was still as powerful as in the days when he fought Cluny the Scourge. Cornflower sat in Matthias's chamber with him, arranging the festivities.

Cornflower shuffled about with scrolls and plans written up by the Redwallers in Cavern Hole. Matthias was not happy. He said in his slightly squeaky old voice to Cornflower, "I'm not that old! I don't see all the fuss, dear!"

She tut-tutted and said, "You _are _that old, mister warrior! And so am I! We're not going to be around for many more birthdays, and this one's special! You should be thankful that the creatures of Mossflower would honur you like this, Matthias."

Matthias started to walk out of the room, with the assistance of his sword, which he now used mostly as a cane. Just before he opened the doors, he called back, "I'm off to see Mattimeo and his little rascal of a son! Goodbye, dear!"

Not looking up from her papers, she said, "Have fun with them, Matthias! Now shoo! I've got to finish the arrangements!"

Matthias shut the door and stepped out into the grass. Creatures hustled and bustled about on the Abbey grounds like ants. The chefs from the kitchen, accompanied by Basil Stag Hare and Log-a-Log Flugg, carried elaborate cakes and other delicacies up onto tables. Cheek the otter followed along, desperate for attention from Basil.

Constance, Orlando, and Auma walked about, maintaining order as Dibbuns ran and yelled playfully. Ambrose Spike and Jabez Stump carried various wines out of the cellar, accompanied by Jube, who had taken a large interest in Ambrose's cellar work. Jess and Sam Squirrel, accompanied by Rollo Bankvole and Winifred Otter, set the silverware and glasses on the long tables situated in rows across the Abbey ground.

Abbot Carnlo stood in the middle of it all, on a bench with Martin on his lap. As usual, Martin was talking away, probably another one of his wild stories. Matthias walked over to them.

"Is my grandson causing you trouble, Father Abbot?" Matthias asked, laughing. "He's probably relating some more crazy tales, the little rogue!"

Abbot Carnlo looked up at Matthias. "Why, yes, he is!" Turning to Martin, he said, "Aren't you, Martin? What is this about a giant rat you encountered?"

Martin's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, 'twas huge! N' its teeth were this big!" he said, pressing his paws on his face as if they were giant fangs. "But ole Martin took care o' him, ho ho! I had me daddy's great sword, and hacked th' beast somethin' good!"

Matthias laughed. "Just like his father!"

The Abbot piped up as well. "And his grandfather, I'd bet! Hee hee!"

Amid the laughter, Matthias asked Martin, "Now, Martin, I'd like to speak with your father. Could you tell me where he is today?"

The young mouse puffed up his chest and said, "I won't just tell ya, I'll show ya! Follow me, granfer!" He took off running to the Abbey gates.

"I think he might have picked up a few things from the Foremole, Father Abbot!" Matthias said with a chuckle as he began to follow his enthusiastic grandson.

"Wait, Matthias!" he heard the Abbot say.

Matthias walked back to him. "What's the matter?"

"For one, there's no need to call me Father Abbot, Matthias, you know that! You're older than I am! Ha!" Carnlo said.

Matthias smiled. "Alright, _Carnlo_." He looked towards the gate and saw Martin jumping up and down with sheer excitement of the festivities and who knows what else. "I had better get going! Looks like someone's ready for me!"

Just before he could turn, the Abbot grabbed hold of Matthias's habit and whispered, "You might not want to talk to Mattimeo right now. He's standing outside the Abbey, looking out into space. He's been acting very strange ever since Sister Bhriina left!"

Matthias nodded and walked as fast as he could to Martin. The doors of the gate swung open and grandfather and grandson walked out together. Matthias spotted his son standing a short bit away before Martin could point his finger and say, "There he is, granfer!"

"Go back and play with your friends, Martin. This is grown-up talk," Matthias said, and Martin rushed back into the Abbey, skipping as he went.

Matthias spoke loud enough for Mattimeo to hear him. "One day he will be a great warrior. Just like his father."

Mattimeo did not move.

Matthias walked up and stood next to him. "What's the trouble son? Is this a family matter? Are you worried about Martin? Or Tess?"

He remained completely still.

Matthias sighed. "Mattimeo. Is this about Bhriina?"

Mattimeo drew a long breath. "The Abbot told you, didn't he?"

Matthias nodded.

"How could one not be concerned? She is reckless, father! And she is very opposed to out Abbey now, and everything we stand for!" Mattimeo said.

"Bhriina chose her own path. This place was not right for her, son." Matthias answered.

Mattimeo sat down cross-legged and sighed deeply. He whispered to Matthias. "Father, I think she may be evil."

Matthias stabbed his sword into the ground and adopted a commanding voice. "Now, Mattimeo! We cannot just accuse people who do not see our ways as we do to be evil, or anything of the sort!"

The son of the great warrior looked up. "Then you have not seen it."

Matthias shook his head. "Seen what?"

"This way, father," Mattimeo said as he walked back to the Abbey.

Several minutes later, Matthias and Mattimeo were in the library, high up in the lower levels of the attic. Mattimeo clutched a small notebook and began to flip through the yellowed pages by candlelight.

"This is Bhriina's diary," Mattimeo explained. "Only the Abbot, Constance, and I have seen it. Constance found it while supervising the cleaning out of Sister Bhriina's old room in the dormitory. She brought it straight to the Abbot."

"Why haven't I seen this?" Matthias insisted. "I'm the Abbey warrior!"

Mattimeo sighed. He had tried to explain to his old father many times that he was not the warrior any more. "First off, I'm technically the Abbey warrior, and secondly, the Abbot felt it would be better not to show it to you until after your birthday! He didn't want to ruin the party for you. Constance and I were overruled; we wanted to show it to you."

"Alright, son. But what does this thing say? What's in it that's so horrible?" Matthias asked. In response, Mattimeo flipped back to the beginning and began to read aloud.

'I have just joined the Abbey of Redwall. I am glad to have found a place to relax after the big chase from the pirates, but I will not remain here long.'

Matthias interrupted. "So? She was only a northern wanderer escapee from a band of pirates who was looking for a temporary home! Is there something wrong with that, son?"

Mattimeo was growing impatient with his father. "No, there wouldn't be, but this is not the case! Let me continue, father!"

Matthias sat back in his chair and listened.

'The denizens of this place are extremely kind. Too kind. These creatures are soft. They are not hardened by the north whatsoever, and have never seen a bad day. They have probably never even met a corsair or vermin. The Redwallers will be extremely easy to conquer. I will depart soon to gather my army and take over. My goal is to kill or enslave all the residents and then take over the fortress.'

Matthias sighed. "This is Cluny all over again."

"No, father! This is worse! We allowed this mouse into our home! She was here for over a month! She knows everything about us, and about this Abbey! She will be unstoppable!" Mattimeo yelled.

"Who knows, Mattimeo. She may be bluffing. Or, she might not be able to gather an army. After all, how many corsairs and vermin can there possibly be that are willing to serve a mouse?" Matthias said.

"No, listen to this!" Mattimeo exclaimed, reading on.

'My army will crush the peaceful Redwallers! I was once worried over whether I would be able to gather enough forces, but with Covodre's allies, it will be easy!'

"Who is Covodre?" Mattimeo asked, glancing at his father.

"Probably a friend of hers. I should ask Constance if she has ever heard of anyone with such a name," Matthias said.

As if on cue, Constance entered the library, accompanied by Orlando the Axe. The two were the happiest of couples, and Auma had accepted Constance as a mother immediately. Constance and Orlando kept peace in Redwall and managed many things in the Abbey, and were trusted by the Abbot as two emergency members of a Council of War, if one were necessary.

"You called me, Mattimeo?" Constance said.

"Yes, Constance," Mattimeo said. "We're looking at the diary."

Constance looked over at Matthias and gasped. "The Abbot will not be happy, Mattimeo! We were supposed to wait!"

"It cannot wait, Constance! This is urgent! This mouse is raising an army!" he yelled.

Constance and Orlando lumbered over to the table where the diary lay. "What do you make of this, Matthias?" Orlando asked.

"She is definitely dangerous," Matthias said, "But we cannot prove that this is not a bluff or a trick she left here."

Constance seemed unsure. "Matthias, I hate to disagree, but I do not think that this mouse would be one to bluff over something as big as this."

Matthias stood up. "I've just remembered. She mentions someone in the text named Covodre. Do you anyone by that name, Constance? That may be a clue!"

"Yes…" she said, slowly. The badger looked off into space for several moments. "Covodre was a mouse who left the Abbey when you were very young, Matthias. Apart from Bhriina, he is the only creature to ever leave the Order of Redwall Mice. He never really talked to any of us, and he was never seen out on the grounds or in Cavern Hole, or even the Great Hall. Methuselah always thought he was a recluse…most people agreed. One night, Covodre just slipped out—left completely, without a trace. No one knows where or why. I would consider him a threat, and I would consider this diary completely factual."

Mattimeo threw his paws up into the air. "Well, this is just perfect! First Cluny, then Slagar, and now another!"

"At least you didn't have to deal with Cluny, Mattimeo," Matthias argued.

Orlando interrupted their brief squabble. "No matter! Now, surely we can deal with this! Surely her strategy couldn't be any different than what I've heard of this Cluny. It's simple: gather forces, march on the Abbey, take it over, and rule it!"

"Except that the Bhriina knows the place inside and out, and knows nearly everybeast in it! This gives a huge advantage!" Mattimeo said, taking the words right out of his father's mouth. "We have to tell the Abbot what we've found, now!"

Orlando volunteered to fetch the Abbot, and within five minutes he returned with him. Matthias and Constance explained the situation, with the addition of Covodre (whom the Abbot had never heard of, for he was younger than all there but Mattimeo).

The Abbot rubbed his head with his paws, obviously in deep thought.

Mattimeo laid a paw on the Abbot's back. "When shall we tell everybeast, Father Abbot?"

"Not until after the party. Everybeast is so excited, I couldn't bear to ruin their spirits now. The day after, we'll call all the creatures of Redwall and those from the woods around us to the Abbey grounds to announce the possible attack."

They all agreed upon this. Matthias and Mattimeo remained behind in the library. While Matthias was thinking, Mattimeo was hurriedly searching the bookshelves.

"What _are _you doing, son?" Matthias asked irritably.

Still shuffling for the right book, Mattimeo said, "Looking for a book on war strategy, of course! I _am _the Abbey warrior, you know!"

Sighing, Matthias went back into his thought, which was soon interrupted once more, as Mattimeo yelled. "Aha! I found 'em!" He came walking over with a stack of five or so thick volumes of old war sagas written by badger lords and hares, and began flipping rapidly through the pages of the first one, entitled _Great Wars of the Badgers_.

"In case you haven't noticed, Mattimeo, this is not a badger war," Matthias remarked.

Mattimeo fumed. "I know that, father! But that doesn't mean I can't find anything helpful in these books! If it is true, and Bhriina is attacking Redwall, then I would like to be prepared!"

Matthias reached over and closed the book with his paw. He began to speak with a much softer and kinder voice. "Son, I have been in two conflicts. You can trust my advice. You don't need to flip through dusty volumes."

Mattimeo still looked unhappy. Matthias continued. "Mattimeo, if we are going to survive this, we have to work together. There will be time for fighting. But it will not be here, behind our lines, between two mice on the same side."

At this, Mattimeo began to cry, and father and son embraced in a hug. Matthias patted his son's back. "It's alright. We'll get through this."

Between sobs, Mattimeo spoke. "I…I just don't want anything bad to happen to these people…not after everything you and I have done to protect them! Why are there such evil people in the world, father?"

Matthias wanted to say something philosophical. Something worthy of a worn warrior such as himself. Something Methuselah or even Martin the Warrior might have said.

But he simply could not find the answer.


	2. Chapter 2

The day of the party was a magnificent one at the least. Not one creature overslept on that morning, and everybeast from Redwall and woods for several miles around was busy somewhere within the Abbey. It was a grand morning! The busiest place of all was for certain the kitchens, where many mice worked labouriously to prepare food of the utmost quality for their warrior. Much to the displeasure of Basil Stag Hare and Cheek, none of the spread was to be eaten until lunch. No one ever noticed the bowl of candied chestnuts and pitcher of strawberry cordial that slipped out through the door, or the sniggering hare and otter enjoying them in the passageway.

The Foremole's team and the Guosim shrews were placed in charge of making sure that the "secret surprise" that the Redwallers had made for Matthias was put into place for its great unveiling at the dinner feast, and a group of Dibbuns were instructed to keep Matthias away from it until then. They were very successful in doing so, especially with the leadership of now somewhat mature Rollo Bankvole, who refused to be called "Baby Rollo" any longer. All morning, Matthias played and tussled with the rambunctious infants.

It seemed that only a few hours it was already time for the evening feast. Despite all of the stress and hard work it took to even get food out to the tables, the spread before the creatures of Redwall was a spectacular one—candied chestnuts as far as the eye could see, much to the enjoyment of the Dibbuns and the growing number of Sparra sparrows residing in the Abbey. Hotroot soup was enjoyed by all, especially the otters. The Guosim shrews had prepared Skilly 'n' Duff, a dumpling-like dish containing wild plums, arrowroot, chopped chestnuts, and blackberries. A similar dish had potatoes, fish, and plenty of salt.

There were also many different beverages to go with the feast. Strawberry cordial was the popularity amongst the young ones, although dandelion and burdock cordial was also present. The older Redwallers enjoyed shrewbeer, brewed by the Guosim, and the all-time favourite October ale, served with the usual assortment of cheeses on the side.

The moles had also prepared a variety of dishes—one of which was their personal favourite, Deeper'n'Ever Turnip'n'Tater'n'Beetroot Pie, served with tomato chutney. The Foremole gobbled up the large dish, talking in between bites. "Burr, this be greater than moi own grandmum's recipe, if oi do say so moiself!" Gaffer piped up beside him, "Hurr, an' ef she was here, she'd give ee a roight spankin' f' sayin' that!"

At the end of the table, amid all of the feasting and laughter, Abbot Carnlo clinked a fork on his glass and the creatures silenced almost immediately. The Abbot spoke to the crowd. "Welcome, Redwallers, and creatures of Mossflower Wood! Today is a great day, a day of feasting and fun! But do not forget why we celebrate! For we celebrate the birthday of our own Matthias the Warrior!"

At this, the Redwallers all cheered as Matthias stood and walked over to the Abbot. Intense clapping could be heard from some of Matthias's closer friends, and his family. In fact, so much rejoice was going on that the Abbot had to clink silverware on his glass once more.

"Now," the Abbot said, turning to Matthias's surprise, which was draped with a cloth. "It is time to reveal Matthias's gift!"

The Foremole lifted the cloth off to reveal a sight that brought tears to Matthias's eyes. It was a grand tapestry of him, just like the one of Martin the Warrior! It was quite large, but extremely detailed, and it captured Matthias's image perfectly. He held his sword, and his entire figure shined bright. The brightness beat back Cluny the Scourge's horde to the left of the painting, and Slagar the Cruel's slavers to the right. Vermin were depicted on their knees, begging for mercy, or running in the opposite direction.

Matthias looked at the Abbot, a tear running down his cheek. "Father Abbot! However did you make this? This is wonderful!"

"Many of our Redwallers compiled their artistic abilities to paint this tapestry, Matthias. We will hang it right by the one of Martin the Warrior!"

Matthias was in complete shock. Within a few minutes, they had hung the painting directly underneath that of Martin. Back when he was a young mouse, during the Cluny endeavour, Matthias would never have thought that he would have his own tapestry to go with the Redwall Tapestry, the inspiration of his warrior ways and the depiction of his hero.

Celebration continued into late evening, and Matthias sat at a table on the Abbey grounds with some of his best friends. Cornflower, Mattimeo, Tess Churchmouse and her brother Tim, Ambrose Spike, Jabez Stump, Constance and Orlando, Jess Squirrel, Winifred, the Log-a-Log, and the Foremole all sat conversing. At the moment, the Foremole was telling a story about overeating when he was a young mole.

"Burr, oi didn't realoize just how much oi'd eaten, until moi dad and moi granfer came back from th' woods and all th' chestnuts n' th' pantry was gone! Moi granfer was roight mad he was! 'Yore mum will give ee a roight good punishment, oi should think!' Ohoho, yes she did!"

Abbot Carnlo walked over to their table and smiled as he listened to the antics of a younger Foremole. After a while, though, he quietly asked to speak with Matthias alone and the two began walking to the Abbot's chamber.

When they arrived, they each took a seat. "What's the matter, Father Abbot? Er, I mean Carnlo?" Matthias asked.

The Abbot took out a small piece of parchment paper. "We received this tonight. One of the Sparra scouts said she were tracking a group of vermin, and when she went down to investigate after the corsairs had left, she found this."

On the paper was a crude drawing of a mouse skull and crossbones with two letters beneath it: M & M.

"What do you suppose this means, Father Abbot?" Matthias questioned.

The Abbot seemed worried. "Well, Matthias, we have reason to believe that this small band was on their way to Bhriina's horde. And we also have reason to suspect that M and M stands for Matthias and Mattimeo."

Matthias was taken aback. "This cannot be!"

"If they were in fact under the command of Bhriina, then she may have told her vermin about you and your son. You two may be the target of this entire attack," the Abbot said.

"No!" Matthias yelled. "If that is so, then we must leave! Right now! We cannot put anyone here in danger! We must leave!"

The Abbot remained calm. "Matthias, no matter if you stay or go, we will still be at risk. She will still come, and she will still attack if you are not here. It is better to have you here than lose more lives without your help."

The Abbot's logic sunk into Matthias's mind. "Alright, Father Abbot. We will stay."

"One more thing, Matthias. Mattimeo and I have decided to send the Sparra on an errand," the Abbot said.

"What kind of errand?" Matthias asked.

"They are going to Salamandastron. We need the Long Patrol's help if we are going to win this, Matthias. The help of those hares may be the only way we can survive," he said.

"I agree, Father Abbot. They would be very useful. Although, I am not sure how many hares there are currently guarding the volcano. From what I've gathered, during the time of Martin the Warrior there were ten or less. Let's hope more have come since then," Matthias said.

The Abbot did not seem hopeful. "Yes, Matthias. Let us hope. But I am afraid that for now we cannot do anything more than that."

Matthias had returned to his chamber and was preparing for bed. Cornflower was in a delightful, chipper mood, and was concerned that Matthias did not share it.

"What's amiss, Matthias? Don't you like your tapestry?" she asked.

Matthias was startled, and suddenly looked up from what he was doing. "Hmm? What? The tapestry? Oh no, Cornflower, I love it! It's grand!"

The wife of the warrior was not convinced. "Really, Matthias! Tell me what's troubling you! I'm your wife, you can tell me!"

Matthias sighed. "I don't want to ruin your good mood."

"Now, Matthias! You tell me right now! What is going on?"

He decided consciously to tell her before the big reveal. "Do you remember Bhriina?"

"Of course! Never really liked the mouse, but I remember her."

"She is evil."

Cornflower was displeased. "Matthias, nobeast can just go around accusing others of being evil, not even a warrior!"

"No, dear. I mean _evil_."

She still did not understand.

"Bhriina is massing an army of vermin to attack the Abbey."

Cornflower gasped. "This is surely not so!"

"It is so."

"How do you know?"

"We procured a diary that once belonged to her…" Matthias was cut off in midsentence.

"It could be a bluff!" she noted.

He finished his sentence. "And it is not a bluff. A Sparra scout came across a vermin pack headed for her main horde."

Cornflower took a deep breath that ended up in a sob.

"And…Cornflower?" he asked.

"Yes, Matthias?"

"Mattimeo and I appear to be the targets."

Cornflower was near fainting. "Oh, Matthias! This is just dreadful! Why you? And why Mattimeo? What have any of us ever done?"

"We are a good, free people Cornflower. Vermin see that as a sign of weakness. But we're going to show them. Combat training begins tomorrow."

Cornflower still sobbed. "But why my husband? And my son!"

"We're the only thing in their way of demolishing this Abbey and slaying you all, that's why! Bhriina knows from her time here that we are the only ones who can stop her!"

"Constance and Orlando are strong fighters, aren't they?" Cornflower suggested.

Matthias sighed. "Yes, dear, but they do not possess the will to defeat a vermin horde." 

At this moment a knock came to the door.

Matthias yelled. "Come in!" The door creaked open and Mattimeo stood in the doorway.

Cornflower ran to him and hugged him tightly. "Oh, my Mattimeo!"

Mattimeo looked at Matthias. "Have you told her, father?"

Matthias nodded gravely. "She needed to know before the others."

Cornflower drew herself away from Mattimeo and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Well, no use cryin' about this. We'll deal with it just like we have in the past, with every other invader that has come upon our Abbey! I just hope this one doesn't steal our young ones! That was a nightmare! Not that Cluny was fun either, but…" she trailed off, and her family couldn't resist a small chuckle. Even in the darkest of times, one still had to find time for humour.

She looked at Mattimeo. "No use for you bein' here, either. Go home and tell your Tess what's happenin', son!" With a pat on his back, Mattimeo was out the door.

Cornflower and Matthias slipped into bed. They talked as the candlelight dimmed.

"Cornflower, I think we'll put you and Tess in charge of keeping the old ones and the Dibbuns out of harms reach and occupied with other work during training and whatnot. I don't think Jess Squirrel can take much more of this housekeeping work. It's time she trained not-so-silent Sam in the ways of a warrior!"

Cornflower could not help but laugh. "And I assume you'll be in charge of this training?"

"Actually, the Abbot has selected Mattimeo for the job. It's for the better."

The candle flickered and went out, and the old couple fell fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Bhriina and Covodre's horde had set up their massive camp just a ways off the road, several miles to the south of Redwall and Saint Ninian's Church, and along the River Moss. The hordebeasts chopped down many trees to make way for the scores of soldiers under Bhriina's command. They had also had to exterminate several families of woodlanders who lived in the surrounding areas, and none were left alive, not even for interrogation. Bhriina knew what she was doing, and none of her horde dared to question her.

How she had acquired this many vermin in a matter of months was shrouded in mystery to most. The truth was, most of the hordebeasts were bribed into joining up. Many individual scoundrel groups had assimilated themselves into the horde as well, and collectively the forces were known as the Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs, or the Coarc.

Various creatures resided in the camp, but they were largely the average vermin species: rats of every variety, weasels, stoats, ferrets, and foxes. The rarer breeds were also there, as well. Ermines, pine martens, wolverines, and even a group of wildcats claiming to be of the Thousand Eyes lineage had been recruited from the far north.

Specialty groups from far and wide had gathered as well. From the surrounding area, a group of crazed tree rats known as the Painted Ones and a band of small weasels called the Flitchaye were allied to the Coarc. Another peculiar group of reptiles and amphibians from a place called Marshwood Hill had been bribed into joining, with the promise of eating the captured enemies. These creatures included an odd mix of lizards, slowworms, adders, and toads.

Apart from the groups that came to join the Coarc, many individuals came as well, and they were well rewarded for their services. Expert assassins, slavers, pirates, and thieves were handpicked by Covodre. Professional mercenaries, mostly foxes, earned the highest rates.

The camp itself was nothing special, other than its size. Crude tents were set up that housed ten to fifteen each. The lowliest vermin, such as rats and Marshwood reptiles, lived at the bottom of the small hill the camp rested on, at the edge nearest to the road. Higher up were the weasels, ferrets, and stoats, and even higher were the hordebeasts from the north. At the very top of the hill stood Bhriina and Covodre's tent, surrounded by a circular formation of her top lieutenants and paid mercenaries' tents. The Coarc leader's residence was less luxurious than one might think, but it was high-class compared to the rat and toad hovels. Their tent actually had a few carpets on the ground to cover the grass, and they had real beds, stolen from a nearby family of hedgehogs, and clean drinking water brought each day up the hill from the River Moss. It was not fancy by any means, but it was applicable, and that was all that they required.

Bhriina sat in her tent, at a wooden table taken from a lone otter's home, with a map that her top lieutenant Wastrop, a stoat, had drawn for her of the surrounding area. It showed the lands from just south of the Anti-Redwall camp all the way up to the Abbey and just north of it. While it seemed immensely easy, and they were five miles away or less from their target, Bhriina still plotted and pored over scores of possible attack strategies, considering the outcome of each.

She finally settled upon one strategy that kept coming back to her in her mind. The goal was to be discreet, but not overly so: meaning that while they would not waltz down the main road to the Abbey gate, they would still charge straight for it without any sneaking around or infiltrating. Now, Bhriina had spies on their way to the Abbey to check out the design of the place and the denizens of it more closely, but the final attack would not depend upon sneakiness.

The plan was to have the horde cross the River Moss at a point a mile south of the camp, where it was shallow and easy to walk through, and take the army up through the forest until they came to the meadow on the west side of the Abbey. They would get into formation there, and march on the Abbey. It was plain, simple, and effective. They would use battering rams to burst in through the front gate, and a secret weapon Covodre and Wastrop were testing to inflict further damage. This style of attack seemed better to Bhriina than traipsing through the woodlands to the east of the Abbey and then having arrows rain down on the horde with no way to get in and no way to escape.

Wastrop and Stonegor, a wolverine who served as the head of the paid mercenaries, stepped into Bhriina's tent. Bhriina looked up from her map and glared at them. "What do you want? Shouldn't you announce yourselves before entering?"

Wastrop answered. "Sorry, Milady. We have come on orders of Covodre to show you the secret weapon. It is working perfectly, and right on your schedule."

This changed Bhriina's worrisome mood. "Oh, yes! The secret weapon! Lead me there!"

The two lieutenants led their leader east out of the camp into the woods. "Are we almost there?" Bhriina complained. "How far away did you have to construct this?"

Her questions were answered for her as the trees grew sparse and a giant clearing appeared. In the centre of it was a large device—a catapult. It was rare even in the northlands. The Redwallers would have absolutely no idea what it was or how to defeat it. The frame of it was a complicated thing indeed: bolts and ropes intricately designed, wheels of nice, solid wood, and the most formidable rock that Bhriina had ever seen resting in its spot at the top. The rock had spears poking out of it in all directions, and it looked like it could tear anything to shreds.

Near the top of the catapult, Covodre and a rat named Blackclaw were making finishing touches. Bhriina called up to her husband. "Covodre! This is brilliant! Let me see it in action!"

"Of course, Milady!" Blackclaw called, and the mouse and rat hopped down from the catapult. Blackclaw went to the side of it and began cranking a chain. "What shall I aim it at, Milady? A tree, or something else?"

Bhriina did not care. She just wanted to see the destruction. "A tree will do!"

"Yes, Milady!" Blackclaw said, as he finished cranking and let go.

The force with which the spiked boulder hit the three was so massive that when it was all over with, there was no tree left. The entire middle of the tree splintered to nothing, and the top and bottom lay in shreds on the forest floor. The boulder rolled off a short bit, still intact.

Bhriina turned to Blackclaw. "This is brilliant! Is this your doing?"

"Yes, Milady!" Blackclaw said, "And we can have ten more within a week if the hordebeasts are set to work!"

It seemed as if Bhriina was the most excited mouse in the world. "Blackclaw, you are being promoted to lieutenant! Pack your things and move to the top of the hill!"

Blackclaw was elated. "Thank you very much, Milady!" Even during the short period of time that the camp had been established, social classes had sprang up among the vermin, and being moved straight from the bottom to the top was a major accomplishment.

Blackclaw ran off towards the camp, hardly being able to stay upright in his sheer joy. Bhriina turned to Wastrop and Stonegor. "You two are dismissed. Back to the camp!" The stoat and the wolverine also headed back to camp, but they were not excited in the least.

Bhriina looked at her husband, who was fiddling with a part near the wheel of the catapult. "Are you sure this will work, Covodre? And can we really have so many of them in working condition so fast?"

"Yes, dear," Covodre said, "Blackclaw was telling the truth, and he really did build the majority of this contraption. I would be confident with him as the director of construction."

"Good!" Bhriina said. "My plan is working perfectly! These catapults will leave Redwall a mess of bricks on the ground, and nothing more!"

Covodre looked up from his fiddling again. "Are you sure the Redwallers will find the fake diary that you left, Bhriina?"

She nodded. "If I know anything about those two 'warriors', they've already found it and are planning on how to possibly resist a force as big as our own!"

Covodre was slightly confused. "So, what exactly was different about that diary from our actual plan? Why was it a fake?"

"I made it very clear that our plan was to capture the Abbey—when in reality we are going to completely destroy the structure," Bhriina explained. The only person she was this kind and understanding to was Covodre. He believed their love was truly genuine, but Bhriina knew in the back of her mind that she would be forced to break apart from him if he ever tried to take control of the horde.

At this moment, a rather stupid ferret named Skinfur came running over to Bhriina. "Milady," he panted, "I've been ordered to tell you that a group of scouts just took off from Redwall, to the west!"

Bhriina was displeased. "And did you follow them? Who were they?"

"They were sparrows, Milady, and…I didn't follow 'em, Milady, I…uh…figured I should go straight to you…" he trailed off.

Bhriina was very angry now. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually could have followed these alleged scouts, to find out where they were headed, and got some real information, and instead you come bumbling over here just to tell me that they left?"

Skinfur was dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, Milady, real sorry…" but he was cut off in midsentence when Bhriina shoved her curved dagger through his throat.

Bhriina spat on the ferret's carcass. "Useless fools!"

Covodre appeared to be finished with whatever he was tinkering on. He joined Bhriina as she walked back to the tent on the top of the hill. When they arrived, Bhriina ordered Covodre to gather the lieutenants, and he rushed off around the top of the hill, asking them to meet at the Grand Tent on the hilltop.

The eight lieutenants stood, lined up in Bhriina's tent in front of her table. There was Wastrop the stoat, who was the chief of lieutenants, Stonegor the wolverine, the highest paid mercenary in the entire camp, the newly added Blackclaw, a weasel named Dewsnout who managed all foraging and cooking of food, an ermine corsair from the north named Fishlent, a rat pirate called Cap'n Hookhound, a ferret named Crookneck who managed all of the Coarc weaponry, such as swords and knives, and lastly the leader of the wildcats, Reginlim Greeneyes, who claimed to be the grandson of the brother of Verdauga Greeneyes. Bhriina had no foxes in her lieutenant lineup, for she felt wary of them. She had heard many tales across the lands, even at Redwall, of foxes that betrayed their authority.

Bhriina spoke to her lieutenants. "You all are here either because of an individual skill you possess or a special leadership of a group within our Coalition."

"Another reason is that you are sharper of mind than the average hordebeasts here and can actually carry out a civil conversation," she said, although she did not believe any of them were anything special.

"You are also willing to sacrifice your lives for me, your leader, in her quest to destroy Redwall Abbey," she said, although she was certain half of them would backstab her at any moment and no one could be fully trusted.

At this point, Bhriina began to relate the exact plot of her attack plan on the Abbey, down to the last detail. Most of the lieutenants remained silent, but a few of the more ignorant ones, such as the recently promoted Blackclaw, put in a few words about their area of specialty. The one question from Blackclaw that Bhriina actually found useful was "How are we supposed to get the catapults across the river without them breaking?"

This concerned Bhriina, for she did not know the answer. "Blackclaw, you're the camp's chief engineer, surely you can come up with a way to get them across."

Blackclaw's eyes lit up. "Of course, Milady! I'll have the answer for ye within a week!"

Bhriina did not get excited. "You had better! Get to work, Blackclaw! Now! Have that one rat, Stumpwhisker or whatever, have him help. He can move up, but he's not a lieutenant!"

Blackclaw scurried off down the hill to fetch his friend and begin work. Bhriina continued ordering her lieutenants about.

"Hookhound! Fishlent! Go with Dewsnout and find us some food for tonight!"

"Reginlim! Stonegor! Wastrop! Go with Crookneck and inspect the armoury!"

With all of her lieutenants gone, Bhriina could finally have time alone with Covodre. "Oh, Covodre," she cooed, "If I lost you in the battle I wouldn't know what to do!"

Covodre chuckled. "I'm sure you would manage, dear."

Bhriina thought to herself. Yes, she would manage. She didn't need this fool, or any horde or anything like that. She could do this by herself if she really desired to.

There would be a time and place when Bhriina would no longer need Covodre or her lieutenants. But, for now, she sat back, and watched her soldiers do her work for her.

Minutes later, a fox came to the door of the tent. "Milady!"

Bhriina was unhappy once more. "What? Who is it?"

"It's Greychop, the fox! I have important news!"

A fox! How dare he interrupt her! "Come in! Make it fast, fox!"

The fox came in dragging a sparrow tied up with rope. "Found this likkle one spyin' on the camp, we did! Wot should we do with 'im, Milady?"

Bhriina leaned down toward the sparrow and undid the cloth tied around its beak. Immediately it started to scream unthinkable and unintelligible things.

She asked one simple question. "Are you from Redwall?" Before the poor sparrow could even say "yes" she had thrown her dagger into its neck.


	4. Chapter 4

Matthias groaned as he awakened. Today was the day when the Redwallers were due to learn about the current circumstances. He did not want to have to tell them, but it was necessary they know of the looming threat.

It appeared that Cornflower was already up and about, as she was no longer in bed. In fact, it appeared he had overslept. Lots of noise came from the outside, and lots of creatures seemed to be moving about.

A knock came to the door. "Mattimeo, is that you again?" Matthias called. He was always a bit cranky when he first woke up.

The door opened and it was the Abbot. Matthias was flustered. "Oh, goodness! I'm sorry, Father Abbot!" Matthias scrambled around, trying to tidy his chamber and threw his habit on.

Abbot Carnlo chuckled. "It's alright, Matthias, I just came to tell you we're about to announce the bad news to the Redwallers."

"Oh," Matthias said. "I'll be out in a minute, Father Abbot!"

Another chuckle issued from the Abbot's mouth. "Carnlo, Matthias! Don't call me Father Abbot! You're older than me!"

Matthias was still hurrying around distractedly. "Okay, Father Abbot! Just a moment!"

The Abbot laughed and left the room.

Matthias kept his word, and within a minute he was dressed and out of the room. The Abbot was waiting just outside his room, and together they walked to Cavern Hole, where all the Redwallers were headed.

In ten minutes, every Redwaller was packed tightly into Cavern Hole. The Abbot and Matthias sat at the head of the table next to Mattimeo, Constance, Orlando, Cornflower, and Tess Churchmouse, the only other creatures who knew.

Abbot Carnlo hit a gavel on the table to end the chatter amongst the Redwallers. He spoke loudly so all could hear. "We are gathered today to discuss a most terrible circumstance that has come upon our Abbey and the whole of Mossflower Wood."

He paused before continuing. "The former Redwall mice Bhriina and Covodre have assembled a large horde of vermin and are scheming to take control of our Abbey."

Gasps came from nearly every creature in Cavern Hole.

"How is this so?"

"Surely not!"

"How terrible!"

Basil Stag Hare could be heard shouting. "How dare they, the rogues! Let me at 'em!"

The Abbot pounded his oaken gavel thrice more. "Hush, Redwallers! We shall take all necessary precautions against this threat! War training commences today!"

Once more the Redwallers began to talk and worry, and the poor Abbot had to bang his gavel again. "If you were invited to the war council, stay here. All others, return to your previous business! We will discuss this again soon!"

Most of the Redwallers filed out of the room, but several remained. They were to be the Redwall Council of Warfare, and they were: the Abbot, Matthias and Mattimeo, Constance and Orlando, Basil Stag Hare, Jess Squirrel, Winifred Otter, Ambrose Spike and Jabez Stump, the Foremole, Log-a-Log Flugg, Sir Harry the Muse, Sister May, and Brother Rufus.

"We fourteen are the Redwall Council of Warfare, and, during this endeavour, we shall serve as the leaders of the Abbey in its inevitable fight with Bhriina," the Abbot said.

"I am solely here as the leader of the Order of Redwall Mice, and I know little of conflict. The leader of Redwall during this time is to be Mattimeo the Warrior, with assistance from his father, Constance, and Orlando the Axe."

"Basil, Winifred, and Jess will manage the training of the Redwallers in simple warfare, such as spear-throwing, arrow-firing, and sword-wielding. Younger Redwallers are to be taught how to use slings. Foremole, you and your team are to be in charge of all necessary construction and excavating we may need, and you, Log-a-Log, will help him."

"Sir Harry and the Sparra warriors will be tasked with any spying mission or reconnaissance endeavour that is necessary, Sister May and Brother Rufus will be in charge of healing the wounded and making sure that the infirmary is in top shape. Ambrose and Jabez will be checking every inch of the Abbey to make sure everything is stable and just, so that the attackers will have no advantages. Do I have any questions?"

Foremole piped up. "Burr aye, oi've got ee a gurt good question, F'ther Abb't! Did Matthias n' Mattimeo zurr tell ee all o' ee speech?"

"Every word of it, Foremole," the Abbot said, keeping a straight face the entire time, which gave even more laughs to the Council.

Once the Council members had finished laughing, the Abbot finished. "Any last questions? No? Well, get to work! We have a lot to accomplish!"

The afternoon of this day was one of the busiest in the history of the Abbey. Nobeast was left out of the haul, including the youngest Dibbun to the oldest creature. Firstly, the Sparra warriors set off to Salamandastron, which was not particularly a good thing around the Abbey, for they had lost several helping paws.

Matthias, Mattimeo, Constance, and Orlando had decided to walk around the Abbey to check on all of the groups and make sure they were doing their jobs properly. First, they inspected the Foremole's and the Log-a-Log's work. The Guosim shrews were constructing various defense tools out of wood, such as ladders and gates. The Foremole's team was busy digging trenches outside the Abbey grounds in case they were needed. Gaffer, Jarge, and Loamdog could be heard arguing about who crafted the best trenches.

"Moine's th' best, oi tell 'ee!"

"No, et's moine! Gurr, just look at th' thing!"

"Ho zurr, oi obviously dig th' best trenchers round hurr!"

Sister May and Brother Rufus were doing a splendid job tidying the infirmary and making it the most effective it could be. They added new beds without it becoming overly cramped, and restocked every medicine cabinet. Brother Dan and Sister Agnes were gathering herbs in the nearby woods for the infirmary, as well.

Jabez Stump and Ambrose Spike were found in a hallway on their way to examine a loose piece of stone in the frame of the Abbey, but they had obviously been slacking a bit due to the fact that they both carried flasks of damson wine and October ale. Orlando stayed to make sure the hedgehogs were on task.

Winifred was directing the Redwallers in the art of spear-throwing. Targets were drawn crudely on seed bags that hung from wooden poles. Some of the defenders were very good at it, and quite accurate, but others failed to hit it even once.

Basil Stag Hare was teaching Cheek how to shoot an arrow, and Jess was teaching Sam how to properly wield a sword. Both of the former Dibbuns were now old enough to help. Rollo Bankvole insisted to join them, but Cornflower dragged him back into the Abbey. Cheek turned out to be a right good archer, with encouragement from Basil, of course.

"Come on Cheek, ma' boy! Hit the target, wot! Bull's eye! Good job, me bucko, wot!"

Sam was doing just as well with his sword, and soon, he needed no guidance from his mother. Many poor seed bags were cut by his blade, Jess noted.

A large, hearty dinner was served that night after all of the Redwallers hard work. October ale was aplenty, and warming soups were served to all. Much to the disappointment of the Dibbuns, nothing sugary was to be served, for it was a serious time and strength needed to be built. When Rollo reached for a flask of damson wine, Tess smacked his paw. "That is not cordial, Baby Rollo!" Rollo was not happy with being called Baby one bit, and he wouldn't talk for the rest of the meal.

All through their work, and their dinner, the Redwallers never noticed the spies. Stukkleg the stoat and Jiber the rat were watching for the better part of the afternoon through two small holes in the red sandstone bricks on the side of the Abbey that had not been checked by Jabez and Ambrose yet.

"How much do ya wager we could pilfer some o' them vittles, Stukkleg?"

Stukkleg was getting immensely tired of the rat. "Will you hush, you buffoon? We could be caught! Do you want that?"

As if on perfect timing, a great owl came swooping down upon them, and grabbed the two by their necks, one in each claw. He flew back up into the Abbey with the struggling vermin, and landed right next to the dinner table in the Great Hall.

"Lookie here at what I did find,

Two little wretches, shall I tear out their eyes?

Or, how much of their skin would you like me to grind?

But if you be nice, we can pelt them with pies!"

Sir Harry was never known to say anything that was not in poem form. It was his art form, and the way he lived.

Mattimeo strode up to the vermin with his sword flashing, and pointed it right at the rat's throat. "Who are you and why are you here, scum?"

The rat was trying to speak, but spluttering was all that came out due to the owl talons that still grasped his neck.

Mattimeo sighed. "Release them!"

The two vermin fell to the floor, panting, although Jiber made much more of a show about it, crawling and gasping, and finally slinging on to Mattimeo's footpaw. "You've saved me, kind sir! Would you…" but he was cut off in midsentence when Mattimeo swung his sword very near to the rat's fat face.

At this moment, Sam Squirrel walked up to the stoat with his new sword and pointed it right at the neck, just like Mattimeo had. The two Redwallers were nearly the same age, with Sam being a bit older, but Mattimeo had much more experience and seemed decades older.

Mattimeo shouted again. "I said, who are you? And why are you here?"

The rat blubbered on and on. "We wouldn't hurt nobody nohow! Please don't kill us, mister mouse! Just let us go free, mouse, we'll never come here 'gain, I promise!"

The stoat did not say a word. Matthias nodded to Sam and they quickly switched vermin. Now, Mattimeo held his sword at the stoat's neck. "Maybe _you'll_ be more cooperative, stoat! Who are you, and where have you come from?"

Stukkleg remained defiantly silent, while Jiber continued sobbing. Mattimeo became immensely irritated, and a rush of anger flowed through his entire being. He screamed now. "WHO ARE YOU PATHETIC WRETCHES?"

The Redwallers watched on in awe at their young Warrior. He was apparently not one to tangle with at all.

"I WILL SLAY YOU IF YOU DO NOT ANSWER ME, STOAT!" And he meant it. His word was cutting deeper into Stukkleg's flesh and a drop of blood dripped out onto the sword.

The stoat finally gave in. "We are spies for the Coarc."

Mattimeo released his hold on the sword slightly. "Who are the Coarc?"

The stoat began to say "The Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs", but halfway through the statement, the rat moved to leap on the stoat, so as not to blow their cover. In doing so, however, his arm caught on Sam's sword, and in a blur, the rat's entire right paw lay bloody on the stone floor.

Jiber screamed in horror. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE, SQUIRREL! MY PAW!"

No one paid any attention to the rat. In the background, the Abbot quietly told Sister May to stand down, because it was likely no medical treatment would be needed.

Mattimeo did not move off of Stukkleg. "How long have you been here?"

Stukkleg answered readily at the sight of his fellow hordebeast with only one paw. "Five hours, I reckon, maybe longer?"

He pushed the sword harder. "And what did you hear?"

"Oh, it was hard to hear anything with ole loudmouth over here!"

Mattimeo was angrier every second. "That's not what I asked!"

Stukkleg gulped. "Erm, uhh, oh, I saw some trainin'. You Redwallers must be preparin' for some sort o' fight, I reckon…"

"One last thing!" Mattimeo shouted. "Who sent you here?"

The stoat's response was shocking to all. "Bhriina, of course."

The rat began to scream intensely at this comrade. "NOOOO! YOU FOOL! SHE WILL KILL US NOW! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?"

Mattimeo yelled back at the stupid rat. "I could do it for her!"

This was the point at which Matthias intervened. He strode up with his own sword and pushed Mattimeo aside, saying, "There is no need to kill, my son."

He put a footpaw down hard upon the rat's back and pointed his sword between the stoat's eyes. "I want you two to get out of here. And I want you to never come back? Go in the opposite way from whence you came. Are we understood?" he asked, leaning down to the rat.

Both of them moaned a "yes" and they were heaved out of the Abbey by Matthias and Sam. The rat and stoat went running south as fast as their legs could carry them, the rat's stub of an arm flailing in the evening breeze.

Brother Rufus cleaned up the disembodied paw while the Dibbuns' eyes were shielded by their mothers. Most of the old mousewives and Dibbuns hurried off to bed, and soon only the Council members were left in the Great Hall.

The Foremole was agitated. "You'm shudd send a gurt spy to them, Matthias!"

Matthias looked at the mole. "Do you want to do it?"

Foremole went silent and twiddled his claws.

"Well, no use standing about in here. Go on, friends, go to sleep," the Abbot said.

Sister Rose and Brother Sedge were put on guard duty by Mattimeo just as an extra precaution, and when they grew tired, Orlando and Auma would fill in for them.

Most of the Redwallers were restless and scared, including Matthias and Mattimeo.

Stukkleg and Jiber ran along the road until they reached the camp. They continued to run even as they entered it, all the way up the hill past hundreds of onlooking vermin.

They reached Bhriina's tent, and Jiber was first to talk, as usual. "Mi…Mil…Milady!"

Bhriina's head popped out of the tent. "What?"

What came out of their incompetent mouths was a stream of different stories. Stukkleg told mostly the truth, while Jiber made everything seem a hundred times more extravagant than it actually had been.

"Alright!" yelled Bhriina, irritably. "Come in and tell the story more slowly! And this is only because I heard mention of those warriors!"

When they sat down at Bhriina's table, Jiber went off at once. "Oh, Milady, 'twas terrible! This great big owl comes a'swoopin' down and grabs us! I thought we was dead for sure! We were captured by th' vile Redwall beasts, an' the warriors held their swords on us, they did, 'twas horrible! This likkle squirrel did me paw a right job, he did!"

Bhriina was obviously displeased as she glanced towards Jiber's no-pawed arm. "Do you seriously mean to tell me that you were _captured_ while spying? And that you lost your paw to a young squirrel and barely escaped with your life?"

Jiber nodded, and under the table Bhriina shoved her dagger through the rat's gut, so hard that it protruded from the opposite side of his body.

"M…M…Milady?" the rat spluttered, before falling facedown and stone cold dead onto the table. While Stukkleg showed no outward fear, inside he was trembling.

Bhriina turned to Stukkleg. "How were you captured?"

"This fool was bein' louder n' all get out, Milady, complainin' and whinin' about bein' hungry n' all that, so I told him to shush, and this owl swoops down and gets us because he heard the fool talkin'. So, the younger of the mouse warriors, Matmo, or somethin' like that, and some squirrel puts their swords on us. Eventually they let us go, after they forced the fool into tellin' em who we were and that we were sent by you," Stukkleg explained, truthful about everything except for the fact that he was the one who explained who they were and who sent them.

Bhriina rapped her fingers on the table. "Good."

Stukkleg was completely confused. "Good, Milady?"

"Yes, you simpleton, good! Did he ever say where our camp was?"

Stukkleg shook his head. "Nope. Plus that Mathas or whatever said to go away and never come back, and go in the opposite way that we came from."

Bhriina was satisfied. "See? This is very good! Now they will think our camp is to the north, and that I am relying upon simple spies to do my work."

Stukkleg wasn't very happy about the "simple spies" bit, but he kept his mouth shut.

The mouse questioned the stoat once more. "Did you actually learn anything spying?"

"Oh, yes, Milady, I learned what I could hear over the yammerin' of this blunderer. They're tryin' to prepare for war, so they certainly know we're comin'. The sad excuses for soldiers I saw could hardly even shoot an arrow at a target, Milady!" he explained.

Bhriina smiled. "Exactly as I predicted. They're weak, Stukkleg, the whole lot of them, besides the two mice and those stripedogs," she said, using the vermin term for 'badger'.

Bhriina decided that she liked the blind loyalty of this stoat. "Stukkleg, you are being added to my list of lieutenants. We have no Lieutenant of Spies, and that shall be you. From now on, you will manage all spying and recon we need. Understood, soldier?"

Lieutenant Stukkleg nodded.

"Move your things to an available tent on the top of the hill, Lieutenant," Bhriina said, and the stoat walked off down to the centre of the hill to gather his things.

Inwardly Bhriina knew it was a good decision, but she also knew that nine lieutenants was a lot to handle, and they might be able to defeat her if they worked together. She decided to eliminate the most rebellious of the lieutenants, Fishlent, the ermine corsair from the north. He was crafty, and she knew his crew would never believe that his death was an accident. An internal conflict was about to occur in the camp of the Coarc.

At this moment Covodre entered the tent with a fresh, steaming quail, ready to eat. "Thank you, Covodre, this looks delicious!" Normally, a mouse would not enjoy eating meat in such a fashion, but their two twisted minds allowed them to eat it with ease.

During their meal, Bhriina explained the spies getting captured and how she had made Stukkleg a new lieutenant.

Covodre was skeptical. "Now you have nine lieutenants. Ten, if you count me. That's a lot to handle, dear. Are you sure you can manage it?"

"We're eliminating the ermine, Fishlent, and his crew if they stay loyal to him," she explained to her husband. "I have no need for that corsair."

"Why don't you get rid of the pirate, Hookhound? He's stupid, at least Fishlent knows what he's doing and isn't blindly dumb," Covodre questioned.

Bhriina would've lashed out at anyone else for defying her direct decision, but this was Covodre. She could explain her reasoning. "That's just it. Hookhound isn't smart enough to conspire against me. That Fishlent is a crafty one, though. I'll bet he's already plotting."

Covodre stared at his wife. For a lady, she wasn't fragile at all. She was hard, and tough as nails. That was why he loved her.

For the rest of the night, they dreamed of the imminent civil conflict.


	5. Chapter 5

Morning broke over Redwall Abbey. The sun rose over the clear sky. Normally, the Redwallers would have been overjoyed to have such nice weather, but everybeast was very weary and uncertain about the current events.

The goal of the day was to gather as much food from beyond the Abbey as possible, as it was obvious from the previous night that the enemy was abroad, and heaven knows how much longer it would be safe to venture outside the Abbey.

The Abbot decided that the vermin could have been lying or telling the truth about the location of their camp, so groups of scavengers fanned out in both directions, searching for mushrooms, berries, edible roots, and leaves that could be used for tea.

At midday, much food had been collected and stored in the kitchens. For lunch, the Redwallers feasted upon a simple salad containing various fruits and a large helping of red firebrand peppers, served with shrew bread and cordial.

When the meal was done, the Abbot decided that, just to be on the safe side, more food was to be gathered. Jabez Stump went north for shellfish on the banks of the River Moss, while his wife Rosyqueen and son Jubilation headed south to forage for cherries around Saint Ninian's Church. This concerned Jabez very much, as the two people most precious to him in the entire world were far away, at risk from vermin.

Rosyqueen and Jube entered the clearing that Saint Ninian's was located in. Several small cherry trees stood in the distance, surrounding the church. Jube ran ahead. "There, mum! Cherries aplenty! Let's harvest them and get back to the Abbey!"

Rosyqueen tried to keep up. "Slow down now, Jube! Me paws aren't what they used to be, sweetums!" She finally lumbered over to a tree and began picking the cherries, placing them into the basket that the Abbot had given them.

Jube was content once they had picked several trees thoroughly. "This is quite enough, mum! Let's head back before dad has a panic attack!" he said, chuckling.

Suddenly, a bush in the forest rustled, and a creature could be heard moving. Rosyqueen panicked and whispered to her son. "Oh no, oh no, oh no! Jube, we're the only ones who came this way! It's the vermin!"

Jube turned his head back and forth quickly, trying to come up with a plan. He turned to the church, and then to his mother. "Mum, into the church! We'll hide!"

The hedgehogs rushed as fast as they could into the old uninhabited church. Jube practically flew up the dusty staircase until he reached a large room with many hiding spots. He turned to the top of the staircase, but his mother was lagging behind.

Rosyqueen screamed. Jube drew a knife out of his pocket and started running back down. Three fourths of the way down he halted at the sight before him: a fox and a weasel, holding his mother by both arms and a knife at her neck, and a weasel standing behind her, sword ready.

He screeched at them, trying to copy his friend Mattimeo's scream from the previous night. "PUT MY MUM DOWN RIGHT NOW, SCUM!"

The fox sneered. "Or what, 'edgepig? You gonna use that knife there? Try it."

While this was not meant to be taken literally, Jube threw himself down onto the fox, jabbing and stabbing wildly at the beast. One of the weasels tried to pull Jube off of the fox, but his paws were caught on the hedgehog's prickly spines. The weasel jerked his paw back. "OW! BLINKIN' HEDGEPIG! WOT DO YE THINK YER DOIN'?"

To answer the weasel, Jube leapt off of the fox, who was battered but still breathing, onto the weasel. Three stabs later, the weasel lay on the church ground with a savage cut to the neck and a gash on the side of the head, dead as a doornail.

The other weasel screeched. "He's killed Grinwhisker!"

Before Jube could move on to the next weasel, the fox grabbed him and placed him right next to his mother, whose paws were bound with twine. The fox angrily bound the young hedgehog's paw. "Wot should we do with 'em, Torntail?" he asked the weasel, whose name was accurate to the large rip in his tail.

"Dunno, Frogclaw. If yer ask me I say we kills 'em here and gets it over with!" the weasel said, peering down at the captives.

The fox was not convinced. "We should keep them alive."

Torntail was nonplussed. "Why for? Let's just kill 'em and get on with life!"

The fox was obviously the smarter of the pair. "Naw, we need to keep 'em alive! Hostages, Torntail, hostages! We should take 'em back to Bhriina, 'tis wot she'd like!"

Torntail groaned. "You and yer Bhriina. Forget her! I'm only in this for me captain, Fishlent! He's smarter than Bhriina any day!"

The fox grabbed the weasel by the throat, and it was not a light squeeze. "Listen here, _corsair_, Bhriina is our commander and we do what she says!"

After being released, the weasel continued. "She's a blinkin' _mouse_, Froggy! A mouse! Do you really like takin' yer orders from a _mouse_?"

All through their argument, the vermin didn't notice the two hedgehogs attempting to wriggle free of their bonds, until the fox took a pause to look at them.

"They're escapin', ya fool! Get 'em!" the fox yelled.

The poor hedgehogs did not get far. The vermin each took one up in their arms. The fox took charge. "We're taking these ones to Bhriina!"

The weasel seemed content with momentarily stopping the bickering, and together they carried the struggling hedgehogs back to the camp.

"Jube and Rosyqueen have been gone far too long!"

Jabez was extremely distraught over the absence of his family. His wife and only son amongst a sea of daughters were very dear to him.

"I say, we mount a search party!"

The others gathered in Cavern Hole seemed to agree. Ambrose and Basil were in support of Jabez. Basil called out, "Bally good idea, Stump! Let's leave now, wot wot!"

The Abbot pounded his gavel. "Yes, we need to search for them, but don't get hasty!"

Jabez was irate. "_Hasty_? Are you _mad_, Father Abbot? My wife and my poor little Jube are out in the woods that are crawling with vermin, all by themselves, and you call me _hasty _for wanting to retrieve them?"

The Abbot was becoming annoyed with Jabez. "Jabez Stump, you listen to me! There is no use risking others' lives this late at night! You wouldn't even be able to see where you were going, and the vermin could easily spring on you in this darkness!"

Jabez shut his mouth, but steam practically poured out of his ears.

The Abbot made his decision. "We will mount a search party at first light tomorrow morning! Be ready then, Stump!"

Most of the creatures cleared out of Cavern Hole, but a few of Jabez's supporters remained. Jabez heaved a heavy sigh. He felt a paw on his shoulder, and when he looked up, it was Matthias the Warrior.

"Matthias?" Jabez breathed.

Matthias nodded.

In twenty minutes, Jabez, Matthias, Mattimeo, Winifred, Jess, Basil, and Ambrose were suited up and ready. Most of them held torches to see in the darkness of night. They stole out quietly through the Abbey gates and headed south on the road, towards Saint Ninian's.

When they arrived in the clearing, Jabez ran straight for the cherry trees, and the others followed behind him. Jabez looked around the trees. "Some of these have been picked off of! They were surely here!"

He looked down to see the basket that Rosyqueen had carried halfway full with cherries. "Aha! Their basket! They were here! But where did they go?"

Basil was already bounding towards the church. "In here, wot wot! Their footprints lead over this way!"

The group rushed towards the church, but all stopped dead in their tracks at the bottom of the stairs. A weasel lay dead on the ground, and several weapons lay around the body. Jabez dipped a paw in the pool of blood next to the weasel's head and sniffed it.

Jess made a grossed-out face at the hedgehog. "What are you _doing_, Jabez?"

"This blood is fresh! The kill couldn't have been more than a few hours ago!" he cried.

Jabez turned to see Mattimeo holding an intricately carved knife. "This is an interesting knife, don't you think, Jabez? Doesn't look like a vermin blade."

Jabez cried out again. "It's not! It's Jube's!"

Mattimeo handed it to Jabez and he gasped. "There's still blood on this! My son must have done this!"

All of the party peered down at the body, trying to picture how little Jubilation could've done such a thing.

Winfred interrupted. "Well, what way did they go next?"

Jabez was crawling on the ground towards the wall, where two cut rope bonds lay. "Their bonds were cut! They must have escaped!"

Mattimeo interjected. "If they had escaped, they would have come back to Redwall!"

Matthias agreed. "Just because these bonds were cut does not mean that they escaped. They obviously tried, but different rope could have been put on them later."

Jabez walked back out of the church. "Aha, footprints! Two sets of footprints heading south!" he exclaimed, looking down.

Basil hopped up to the prints and squinted at them. "Er, not to be discouragin' or anything, but those don't look like any bally hedgehog prints to me."

Matthias squeezed in between the hedgehog and hare and looked at the prints. "Basil's right. These are vermin prints! A weasel and a fox, I'll guarantee!"

"Well, quit your arguin' and let's follow 'em!" Jess said.

The small group of old Redwallers followed the prints south along the dirt road for several miles. The tracks ceased when they came to a large, empty, hill called collectively by the residents of Mossflower as the Grassy Hill.

Only now it was not so empty or grassy. A huge camp, swarming with vermin of every kind, covered the entire hill.

While Jabez stood in awe, the rest of the Redwallers jumped into a bush. Matthias whispered commandingly to the hedgehog. "Jabez! What are you doing? Get over here!"

"They've got my Rosyqueen and my Jube! The tyrants!" Jabez said aloud.

Mattimeo decided he had had enough and dashed out onto the road, grabbing Jabez and jumping back into the forest.

"Are you crazy, Jabez? We could be killed! We can't take on that many vermin!" Ambrose fumed.

Jabez turned to Jess. "Jess, if your Sam was being held captive by those beasts, what would you do? Right now, what would you do?"

After a few moments of silence she gave in. "I would rescue him."

"See?" Jabez said to Mattimeo, "She'd do it, too!"

Winifred cut into the conversation. "This is mad! We're going to get killed! Let's wait until morning, like the Abbot said! Then, we'll have more creatures and we'll actually have a chance at getting them out!"

Jabez was angry. "My family might be dead by morning, Winifred!"

Matthias accidentally spoke in a normal, loud voice. "Silence!"

Everybeast went silent and looked up at their warrior.

Matthias pulled his sword out of his backpack. Even in the darkness of night, the silver blade gleamed with a fiery pride. "We fight!"

After a few minutes of peeking outside the bushes, they were able to determine that the large tent on the top of the hill was where the captive hedgehogs were, as well as Bhriina. The group hastily threw together an attack plan as other events took place in the tent they discussed.

Torntail and Frogclaw stood in Bhriina's tent with their hedgehog hostages, who had been bound with tighter rope at their entrance.

Frogclaw was the one who related the story. "We was on patrol, just like ye ordered, Milady, when we saw these two at the ol' church. We followed 'em, only to be savagely attacked by this 'un here," he said, pointing to Jube, "and we lost Grinwhisker, and I almost died meself!"

This was actually believable, considering the large amount of scars and bleeding cuts on the fox's body.

He continued his story. "But we got 'em tied up real good, an' I brought 'em right back here to yer, Milady."

Bhriina questioned the fox. "What do you mean, you? Torntail was with you, wasn't he?"

"Well, he was, but he suggested we kill 'em right there, on the spot, and I said nohoho, Torntail, we've gotta take 'em back to Bhriina. This 'un's too loyal to his cap'n!" Frogclaw said.

Bhriina was displeased. "And what captain would that be, other than me?"

Torntail gulped. "Cap'n Fishlent, o' course, Milady!"

While outwardly angry, Bhriina squealed with delight on the inside. This was the perfect chance to spark the internal conflict between Fishlent's crew and the rest of the army that she had been waiting for.

An ermine from Fishlent's crew called Sourpaw shouted out. "Well, gerron wif' et, then! What do we do wif' 'em?"

A rat named Dropleg, also from the crew of Fishlent, began to shout as well. "I say, we kill both of 'em and move on!"

Both hedgehogs were struggling on the floor, scared to death and trying to escape. But no creature took notice of them. They were too intent on their own matter.

Wormwart the weasel of Bhriina's horde joined in. "We should save 'em as hostages!"

Bhriina's top lieutenant Wastrop's voice roared over all the others. "QUIET! ALL OF YOU! SETTLE DOWN, FOOLS! Now, what I say we do is we ask Bhriina what she would like done to them!"

Nobeast stirred and all heads turned toward Bhriina, with Covodre at her side and sitting at her wooden table. Inwardly, Bhriina decided that the time was right.

She stood up. "My decision is…we fight!" She unleashed a hatchet from the billows of her black dress and threw it so accurately at Torntail that it planted itself directly in between his beady eyes. His body fell to the ground with a thud.

Mere seconds after the demise of Torntail, all chaos broke loose. Swarming out of Bhriina's tent, the vermin hacked this way and that, not even knowing who was on which side. It was a total bloodbath as the hordebeasts slowly grouped together as to whether they sided with Fishlent or Bhriina.

Fishlent's followers were outnumbered ten times over, and yet they charged the loyal vermin with ferocity. Creatures from both sides fell with fatal wounds.

Fishlent stood behind his forces. "Yah, that's it! But yer back into it! It's time we crashed this dump of horde! Yah! Back to the Land of Ice and Snow! Hurrah!"

Bhriina sat on the grass, just inches away from her tent, watching the fight. Covodre was confused. "Dear, is that the safest place to sit?"

Bhriina glanced up at him. "It's fine, Covodre."

He was not convinced. "Shouldn't we go kill Fishlent?"

Bhriina was getting inwardly annoyed with her husband, but she remained ignorant on the outside. "I'm waiting until most of his forces are dead, then, I'll go in!"

"I was thinking, shouldn't we take Fishlent's remaining corsairs prisoner, and force them to continue serving us? It would be better than wasting them like this," Covodre offered.

Bhriina boiled inside. Thinking was her job. "We have plenty of soldiers, Covodre, it's not like we can't spare a few. Now, that's that! Not another word!"

She called out to her horde. "Save the stoat for me! Kill the rest!"

This was accomplished easily. Fishlent's followers were so outnumbered that the horde killed every last one of them. Bhriina rose up and began to run toward Fishlent. As she ran, Bhriina unleashed her dagger.

With ferocity, she leapt upon the stoat. They dueled fiercely. Both had immense skills I swordplay, and had fast reflexes.

Fishlent was quite an opponent. His rapier gleamed in the moonlight, and his sea boots and feathered hat added to his dashing appearance. He was the quintessential outlaw, and everything about him screamed corsair. "Do you really think you can defeat me, mouse? Hahaha! Take this! Take that!" he said, swinging his rapier back and forth.

Nobeast from the horde dared interrupt Bhriina while she was at work, so they all stood in a crowd and watched. Fishlent continued bantering as they fought their way in circles around the hill. "What honourable pirate takes orders from a mousewife?"

Bhriina screamed and knocked his sword out of his paws. She tackled the stoat with great force, and inches from his face she whispered. "Apparently not you, fool." She plunged her dagger into the stoat's heart, and with a last grunt, the corsair captain of the north died.

Bhriina grinned wickedly as she rose from the body of Fishlent. All was done, and work could resume. Soon Redwall would fall. Nobeast would die for the rest of the night.

Or so she thought.

Out of the blue, two hedgehogs, a hare, a squirrel, an otter, and two mice came running up the hill from the road, screaming and whirling their swords and bows. "REDWAAALLLLL!"

Bhriina flicked her eyes to the two hedgehogs bound up outside her tent. It was a rescue mission. She returned her attention to the creatures rushing up the hill. The two mice were the ones she was after. She whispered under her breath. "Matthias and Mattimeo!"

She raised her dagger, which was still dripping with the blood of Fishlent, and screamed. "Kill them! Kill them all!"

Jabez and Ambrose were rolling about the hill curled up in balls, knocking vermin off their feet. Winifred and Jess fired arrows into the enemy lines, and Basil hurled stones. "Yah, yah! Ya worthless vermin, wot! Take this!" Basil yelled, throwing a rock right into a weasel's head. The weasel didn't get up again.

A stoat leapt out next to Basil, swinging its curved sword expertly. Basil bounced around, dodging the stoat's swings. "Ah, not to be rude, Jess, but could ya get this blinkin' feller off o' me, wot wot?" Jess turned and fired three arrows into the stoat, which felled it for good.

Matthias and Mattimeo pressed forward, slicing vermin this way and that, to reach Jube and Rosyqueen at the hilltop. Matthias shouted to his son. "Mattimeo! Once we get to the top, Bhriina is mine! You deal with Covodre!"

"Alright, father!" Mattimeo yelled.

Soon, the Redwallers were at the top of the hill, and all were still alive, although usual cuts and bruises were present. While Basil, Jess, and Winifred held the vermin off, Matthias, Mattimeo, Jabez, and Ambrose approached Bhriina.

Jabez began to shout at Bhriina immediately. "Give me back my family, you scum!"

Bhriina glanced nonchalantly at the captives. "Oh, so these are yours? How tragic." 

Jabez roared and yelled, and would have leapt upon the mouse if Ambrose had not restrained him.

Matthias spoke calmly. "Give us the hedgehogs, and we'll leave peacefully."

Bhriina turned to Covodre, laughing and chuckling. "Did that mouse really just threaten me? Who does he think he is?"

Matthias raised his voice, and unsheathed his great sword. "I AM MATTHIAS THE WARRIOR, AND I WILL SLAY YOU!"

Bhriina took out her dagger and began dueling with Matthias. Covodre leapt at Mattimeo, and they began dueling as well. It was the first mouse-on-mouse fight that anybeast there had ever seen, and some of the hordebeasts just stood and watched in awe.

Jabez took his chance, and rolled for his family, knocking vermin out of the way as he went. He screamed and yelled with ferocity as he unrolled himself and started untying Jube's bonds, whilst kicking vermin out of his way.

Just as Jube came free and Jabez began to untie Rosyqueen, Bhriina glanced backwards and saw what was taking place. She yelled to her archers. "KILL THE HEDGEHOG! BRING HIM DOWN! BRING HIM DOWN!"

A weasel called Nipsnout was the first to reach the treetops. He loosed an arrow on Jabez, but it bounced off his prickly back. He notched another arrow as the hedgehog madly fiddled with the bonds of his wife, and this one was a hit. It protruded right from the Jabez's stomach. But he would not stop until his wife was free. Nipsnout loosed yet another arrow at Jabez, and this one came through the chest.

Down on the hill, Jabez Stump fell to his paws. His wife, son, and Ambrose Spike crowded around as he uttered his final words to his family. "Be safe."

The hedgehog's eyes closed for the last time, and Jube screamed, tears running down his cheeks. "NO! NO! NOOOOOO!" He grabbed a sword from a fallen vermin and chopped a nearby stoat nearly in half with rage. Ambrose picked the struggling Jube up as the Redwallers retreated down the hill and ran for their lives.

Back on the hilltop, Stonegor stood with Bhriina as the Redwallers fled. "Shall we give chase, Milady?"

Bhriina shook her head. "Not this time. There will be a day when all of those pathetic creatures will be dead, but it is not today. Patience is a virtue, wolverine."

Several vermin had started to chase the Redwallers when Stonegor shouted his orders. "Do not follow them! Report back to camp! I repeat, do not follow them! Report back to camp!"

Bhriina walked around surveying the dead. She asked Wastrop, who had just arrived at her side, "How many did we lose?"

Stonegor answered right away. "Including Fishlent's corsairs, we lost about forty, Milady. Where should we dispose of the bodies?"

"Make a pit in the woods, and toss them in there," Bhriina said. She walked up to the body of Jabez Stump. "One to forty, eh, Redwaller?" she said to the carcass. "That'll change."

A rat called Tailer was about to take the hedgehog's limp form to the pile of bodies being made, but Bhriina stopped him. "I have special plans for this one."

Tailer was nonplussed, but he walked away without question to continue his foul work.

Bhriina pictured in her mind the day they would march upon the Abbey. She pictured one of her horde holding up a tall pike with the hedgehog's body stuck on top.

And she loved it.

They sat in the Abbot's chamber. Jabez was crying his eyes out, and Rosyqueen was sobbing. The others were explaining the ordeal.

The Abbot was immensely frustrated. "What were you thinking, Matthias? Going off in the middle of the night, like a bunch of hooligans!"

"They would have been dead by morning, Father Abbot! We had to!" Matthias yelled.

"But Jabez is dead! He didn't need to die, we could have sent a larger party out..." the Abbot was cut off by Mattimeo. "Father Abbot, Jabez gave his life so that his son and his wife could continue living, and if that's not a good reason, then I don't have a clue what is!"

Basil began to speak. "Er, sorry to interrupt, wot, but we're dealin' with a much bigger deal than we ever bally imagined, Father Abbot! Hundreds and hundreds of vermin, wot wot!"

The Abbot did not seem convinced. "Nothing we can't handle! A trained Redwaller has got to be worth several vermin!"

"Not just vermin, Father Abbot! Professional killers! Assassins, mercenaries, pirates, and the lot! They've even got wolverines!" Jess erupted.

The Abbot held his head in his paws. "Wolverines? This is mad! Where does this mouse get wolverines?"

"That is it! I have had enough! The council is meeting!" Mattimeo cried.

In a few minutes, the other sleepy council members were present. Matthias related the story, and told of Jabez's death.

Constance was fuming. "If I would have been there, Jabez would be here, sipping a flagon of October ale and cracking a joke about Basil's ears! This was a foolish decision, Matthias, I could have helped!" 

Matthias looked at Constance. "Would you have, Constance?"

She shrugged. "Of course, Matthias, you know that!"

Matthias questioned her harder. "Would you truly defy a direct order from Abbot Carnlo, and risk the lives of others while breaking said order?"

Constance gave in. "Oh, I wouldn't have had it! I would've said, 'Oh, Matthias, let us wait until dawn, like the Abbot said' or 'Oh, Matthias, that's a bold decision! No way that an old badger like me could go!'" She broke down sobbing. "What happened to the old Constance, the fighting Constance, the warrior Constance?"

Matthias patted her back gently. "The old Constance hasn't been needed for seasons on end. But, I'm afraid it's time she came back."

Sir Harry the Muse interjected.

"Say, good chaps,

What can I do?

For sitting through these naps

Turns my mood dark blue."

Mattimeo answered the owl. "Sir Harry, we need you to fly to Salamandastron. We fear that the Sparra you sent out will never return."

The owl seemed sad for his sparrow companions. "Shall I go now, with a quick bow?"

"Yes, Sir Harry! Go! Fly!" Mattimeo said.

"I will return, friends

Unless my life ends

Hares and badgers I will bring

I promise to do this thing!"

With that, the poetic owl bowed, stepped down from his perch, and walked out the door. The flapping of wings could be heard on the night breeze.

After the owl was gone, Mattimeo continued. "The Redwallers will gather at first light in Cavern Hole to learn of the circumstances."

The Abbot nodded. "Sounds like a fine plan, Mattimeo. Council, you are dismissed."

After the council members were cleared out, Mattimeo started to walk away as the Abbot called to him. "Mattimeo, wait a moment, would you?"

He turned around. "Yes, Father Abbot?"

The Abbot walked up to Mattimeo and spoke in a quiet, low voice. "Mattimeo, I am entrusting the safety of this Abbey to you. Your father is old, and reckless. You seem sturdier to me. You are truly the Warrior of Redwall, Mattimeo."

Mattimeo smiled wryly as he walked away. "Thank you, Father Abbot."

What the Abbot did not know was that Mattimeo was just secretly just as reckless as his father, if not more.

And that was his strength.


	6. Chapter 6

Bhriina was having an intense nightmare. She thrashed about on the cushions in her tent that she used as a bed, so violently that Covodre was forced to leave and lay on the ground outside. The manner of her nightmare was of the worst kind for her, as it was of her past.

As a child, Bhriina lived in a small house overlooking the northern sea. It wasn't much, for her parents were quite poor, but it was a cozy little cabin for sure. Her father was a very worried, dark, mysterious fellow, who constantly worried about his family's safety, and was always fearful of pirate raids that were so common in the north. Bhriina's mother had to care for her while her father worried away the days, so she was always very stressed and tired. She was always complaining to her husband, saying 'if you keep worrying, the pirates will come!'

And come they did. One day, a gloomy, cloudy winter day, they came. A band of rat pirates docked their ship and climbed all the way up the cliff with wooden ladders. Torches were thrown upon the house's straw roof. A nasty rat with an eye patch slew Bhriina's father when he tried to fight back, and Bhriina and her mother were taken aboard the vessel as slaves.

Serving as an oar slave aboard a rat ship was the most miserable time of Bhriina's life, and it lasted for years and years. Her mother was whipped to death within the first few years for being old and frail, but Bhriina prevailed. For years, she grew stronger—and angrier.

One day, in the heat of a long summer, he came. Covodre, and a whole mouse tribe. They raided the pirate ship and killed the whole crew, and after Covodre cut Bhriina loose of her chains, she leapt at the rat captain and choked him to death.

Covodre and Bhriina fell madly in love and left the mouse tribe to live out on their own. They were both dark people with cruel personalities, unlike most of their species, so they could not get along with any other tribes. Eventually, after a fight, they went their separate ways, and Covodre entered Redwall Abbey. He later left, and was reunited with his wife.

That was when the plan began. Covodre saw a chance to eliminate a culture, and plans were set in motion to destroy the Abbey. For a time, Bhriina stayed at the Abbey, gathering information about every detail of the place and its inhabitants.

Meanwhile, Covodre gathered an army. He scoured every corner of the lands for the lowliest vermin and the most highly skilled killers, and produced a horde even ancient warlords would gasp aloud at. The Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs was easily double the size of that of Swartt Sixclaw, and ten times that of Cluny the Scourge or Slagar the Cruel.

All of these events led to this point—Bhriina, just miles away from her target, dreaming of the horrors of her slave past and her fiery romance that had dwindled to nothing as of late. She dreamed of how she planned to kill Covodre: when the time was just right, when he was just about to make his move to take control of the horde, when he was most vulnerable, she would kill him. She would kill him and all the power in the world would be hers.

Bhriina awoke angrily when Covodre walked into the tent. "What do you want?"

Covodre shuffled nervously. "I'm sorry to wake you, Bhriina, but Blackclaw has requested your presence at the catapult site."

Her sour mood did not lessen. "Doesn't he know I'm sleeping?"

Covodre had had enough. "Bhriina, I really think you might want to see this."

She groaned and rose, throwing on her black cloak and trudging outside. They walked until they reached the clearing where Blackclaw the rat lieutenant and his helper Stumpwhisker had been constructing catapults for the Coarc's attack on Redwall.

This time, her sour mood was wiped away at the sight before her. Not only were the ten requested catapults standing in the clearing, but five in addition. She was giggling in an evil kind of mirth when she approached Blackclaw. "Lieutenant, this is wonderful! However did you construct all of these?"

Blackclaw was extremely pompous and prideful. He thought Bhriina favored him over the other lieutenants, but it was actually only his war machines she favored. He explained proudly how they had been made. "I, being such a great leader and all, instructed each hordebeast to do one task, to build one part, and pretty soon, they were all here!"

Bhriina cut to the chase. "Can you make more?"

Blackclaw, acting out of exaggeration, wiped his paw on his forehead. "Well, Milday, I don't know, they took a lot of work, and there's not that much room in this clearing…"

Bhriina was becoming very angry at the overly smart rat. She pulled him close by the scruff of his neck. "Listen here, rat! You think you're so smart, you think you're such a leader! Shut up, and build me my catapults. That's the only reason you're a lieutenant right now, because you're the only one who knows how. It's also the only reason you're alive! Get to work, scum! Now! Make me ten more!"

Blackclaw was astounded. "Ten more? Milady, ten more?"

"Yes, ten more! Have you got cotton in your foul little ears? Ten more! By week's end, I want to see twenty-five catapults all lined up and ready to go!" she screamed.

Blackclaw shuffled back to the catapults. "Yes, yes, I'll have ten more, Milady."

Bhriina stomped back to camp, ignoring Covodre completely.

None of them noticed the sparrow sitting up in a tree, watching the entire scene and trying not to gasp aloud.

The Abbey was once again busy with the hustle and bustle of war preparation, and training was continued. Mattimeo practiced with Sam Squirrel, who was becoming quite skilled with his broadsword, and Auma was learning from her father how to charge enemy lines.

Outside the Abbey, Log-a-Log Flugg was working on his trenches. His shrews made them as dangerous as they possibly could. Spears, pikes, knives, and all manner of sharp sticks and poison-tipped arrows were sticking up from the earth inside the trenches, but from most angles you wouldn't be able to tell it was even there. Plus, the Abbot had ordered that Flugg cover the trenches back up with dirt after the work was done so the vermin would really get a nasty surprise.

Gaffer, the mole of Foremole's team who most often helped out with Guosim affairs, came up to inspect the Log-a-Log's work. "Burr aye, gurt villuns be gettin' ee tastin' o' thurr own medicine, oi think, hurr!"

"Yes, my ole Gaffer, they will have a good surprise waiting when they march on Redwall!" the Log-a-Log exclaimed, with a smile to his friend.

Gaffer continued reviewing the trenches, and his statements were just loud enough to be heard by all.

"Burr, yon pike, hurr, et's stickin' out roight thurr!"

"Dirt, hurr, ee needs more dirt here, burr!"

"Oi thinks ee should add knoives a'top o' zurr!"

The one comment that caught Flugg was the one that did not critique his trench work. "Hurr, look yon thurr, ee likkle burdbag!"

Flugg looked up to see a panicked Sparra warrior flapping its way back into the Abbey. The Log-a-Log was concerned. "Aye, Gaffer, we should see what that was about! Let's head into the Abbey an' see!"

The Sparra warrior was a young one named Curvetalon who had accompanied Sir Harry on the journey to Salamandastron. His flustered attempts to speak to the Abbot had finally been translated by Matthias, who related the story. "So, if this is correct, you were with Sir Harry, but you were injured by a stray tree limb not far along the path. Sir Harry told you to come back, so you came back along the road, and saw—what was it, now?"

Curvetalon went off again. "Great catapults, catapults! Made by lotsa ratworms! Many, many! Trouble! Killeet!"

Matthias looked to Orlando, who was standing nearby. "Catapults?"

Orlando heaved a sigh.

Five minutes later, they were in the library. Orlando had out a book, and was showing Matthias diagrams of catapults. Ironically, it was the same book Mattimeo had that Matthias had shunned several nights ago, _Great Wars of the Badgers_.

Mattimeo playfully nudged his father's shoulder. "Looks like it _is_ a badger war, after all, huh, dad?"

Matthias flicked his son's paw. "Mattimeo, this is not a time for jokes!"

The illustrations of catapults made Matthias very uneasy. Every one of them was huge and dangerous-looking, and able to hurl giant flaming or spiked boulders.

And suddenly, it hit him.

"They don't mean to capture the Abbey for themselves! They mean to _destroy _it!" he exclaimed, throwing his paws into the air in frustration.

Mattimeo was confused. "Where's the point in that? Surely they would have some goal, like taking over the Abbey...and didn't it specifically say in Bhriina's diary that she would take over the Abbey for herself?"

"No!" Matthias said. "The diary was a fraud, and we fell for it! She wrote that because she _knew _we would find it!"

Mattimeo was not convinced. "Still, what's the point of destroying the Abbey when you can use it for yourself?"

Orlando interjected. "Some creatures, like Cluny and Slagar, from anything I've heard, have plans. They know what they want. But the only thing this crazy mouse wants is for all of us to be dead and the Abbey in flaming pieces!"

Matthias bolted out of the room, calling back. "Well, no use sitting here! Let's build more walls! Now!"

The creatures of Redwall had been assigned their task, and everybeast was at work outside the Abbey gates. Stones were pasted onto other stones with anything sticky that was available—spare honey (which was difficult to keep away from Basil and Cheek) and various other pastes made from things in the woodland.

The Foremole's team gathered the stones from the area surrounding Redwall Quarry, but never entered far into it, especially without a torch, because everybeast knew that hundreds of deadly snakes lurked in the shadows.

While the walls constructed were not going to withstand the boulders that would surely come from Bhriina's catapults, they would certainly slow her down, for at noon there were four stone walls, almost as high as the Abbey gate, standing in the meadow. They were pushed with the effort of many creatures into their place in front of the gates, just strategically so, so that everybeast could still get in. When the attack came, they would be shifted to eliminate this.

A quick picnic lunch was prepared by the cooks in the kitchen that was eaten while still out upon the field, and it was straight back to work. Moles could be heard complaining about the stone's weight, and Basil could be heard chastising them.

"Stones is gurt heavy, moi back's hurtin' arfully!" said Loamdog, setting down a brick.

Basil bounced over, saying, "Come on, moley chap, they can't be that bally heavy!" The quirky old hare struggled to even lift the stone, and quickly dropped it back down again. Panting, he hopped off, talking to himself. "Not that heavy at all…oh, who are you kidding, Basil, the thing was blinkin' heavy, it was!"

While it was gloomy and continuous work, it was livened by Cornflower and a group of Dibbuns that walked about and sang merry tunes to lift the workers' spirits. Rollo was not happy that he was forced to apply paste instead of singing, however,

By evening, nine stone walls were guarding Redwall. The last of them were pushed into place, and everybeast stood back to admire the work before heading back to the Abbey to feast on a giant dinner. Basil wolfed food down as if none would ever enter his system again, and while Cheek tried to mimic this, he could only handle so many bowls of hotroot soup.

Dewsnout the weasel cook, Cap'n Hookhound the pirate, and Reginlim Greeneyes the wildcat crouched, hidden in the bushes on the road across from Redwall.

While the weasel and rat were busy fighting and arguing over their spot in which to see outside, Reginlim was spying on the Abbey and its new addition—nine protective walls, made of crude bricks, right in front of the main gate.

Reginlim shushed the others. "Silence, you fools! Do you want to be captured like those other blunderers were?"

Hookhound huffed and crossed his arms. Even in the fading light of evening his appearance was gruesome: an eye patch, a rapier, and a traditional pirate's vest, accompanied even by a peg leg. He looked like the cliché definition of the word 'pirate'.

Dewsnout crouched lower, ceasing his talk with Hookhound, and peered out of the bush at the Abbey. The weasel was garbed simply, with plain but nice clothing and a full quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and a bow in one paw.

Reginlim whispered to his fellow lieutenants. "We have to tell Bhriina about this! The attack plan has to be revised!"

With careful tip-pawing steps, the vermin and the cat crept out of the bush, and once they were out of Redwall's earshot, they ran for the camp.

Dewsnout, Reginlim, and Hookhound stood before Bhriina. As usual, she was not happy with the fact that there were lieutenants in her tent, and was just as angry as normal.

Reginlim, being a very self-absorbed and corrupt cat that viewed himself only as a noble and representative of the Greeneyes Dynasty in the Coarc, took all the credit for the discovery. This was not all that terrible, considering he _had _done most of the working.

"Bhriina, Milady, the Redwallers must have learned of our catapults, because they have built several stone barricades in front of their main gate. I would advise that we re-sculpt our plan to attack from the other sides," Reginlim reported smartly, with an obnoxious bow.

Bhriina glared at the pompous wildcat. "Barricades? Of what sort?"

"Around ten stone walls, about as high as or higher than the Abbey gates," he said.

Bhriina continued to glare. "Stone walls? You're worrying about stone walls?"

At this point Reginlim began to twitch slightly and sweat nervously. "Milady, they would slow down our attack, the enemy would have a better chance of taking some of us out while we worked through them. Might it not be more prudent to attack from the other walls?"

Bhriina was getting angrier. "We have catapults, if you did not notice, you dunce! They will crush through simple stone walls as if they were made of silk! And, furthermore, we are attacking from the front! It is the easiest way in, there is a door, we will use a battering ram, we will go through the gate, and we will pour into the Abbey! Understood?"

"Yes, Milady, but mightn't we use ladders to attack from all sides as well?" the wildcat said, twiddling his claws, sweat pouring off his face.

Bhriina began to yell. "We _will _use ladders, but not primarily! Do you know how easily a ladder is to knock over from within a castle? Several of them will surely fall, and most of the scum on them will either die or be seriously wounded! Do you think that _ladders _are a good way to make our attack?"

Reginlim was done. "No, Milady." He trudged out of the tent without even being dismissed, but the others remained standing at attention. They knew more of the proper etiquette for being in an army than the whiny cat did.

All the while, Covodre had been in the back of the tent, sharpening and polishing his collection of swords, knives, daggers, and cutlasses. Seeing that Bhriina was worn out from yelling, he walked up and questioned Dewsnout and Hookhound.

"Who did the majority of the work on this mission?"

Both tried to answer in favor of themselves. Whilst stumbling over their words, Covodre pulled out a cutlass from his shirt and made a swift cut on both of their wrists.

"I _said_, who did the majority of the work on this mission?"

They both admitted in unison. "Reginlim."

Bhriina pointed a slightly long, sharpened fingernail at the door flap of the tent. "Go. You two are both on hunting, cooking, and washing duty for three days!"

Just as Reginlim had done, they trudged sadly out of their commander's space.

Bhriina put her head on the table and heaved a deep sigh. "Why must we employ such idiotic soldiers, Covodre? Where are the bright creatures?"

He patted his wife's back. "There just aren't many bright creatures to pass around, dear. We're probably the only ones in the Coarc. I hate to say this, but most of the brighter creatures are probably down at Redwall."

Bhriina thought inwardly that she was truly the only bright one in the Coarc, but she would never end up telling him that. Instead, she focused on the second statement. Bhriina put on a fake mask of surprise and disgust. "What? What is this? Is my husband turning sides?"

"No, dear, never! I am loyal only to you!" he exclaimed.

Bhriina looked at him, and the two embraced in a kiss.

Covodre thought it was real.

It was not.

She thought inwardly of how his loyalty to her would be his death.


	7. Chapter 7

The River Moss flowed gently in the morning light. Leaves broke free of their branches among the giants of Mossflower Wood and tumbled through the wind until they landed with the most inaudible plop into the water, and then went with the river for who knows how long. Some even made it to the ocean.

Sir Harry the Muse perched on an overhanging limb of the river, watching the leaves being their journey downstream, and reminiscing of life as he rested. The flight to Salamandastron was not an easy one, for the route was long, but Sir Harry did not mind it. He enjoyed marveling in the beauty of nature on the fringes of Mossflower Wood in his free time, and sometimes he would come to a spot just like this, just for an hour or two, to escape the hubbub of life at Redwall. Now and then, the old owl wished he still resided where he came from, completely alone. But usually he felt happy that he had decided to live at Redwall. The company of other creatures was preferable to the solitary life of a poetic hermit.

In the very far distance Sir Harry could just see the top of Salamandastron. It was a grand place, indeed, the city in the volcano, guarded by the famous Long Patrol. Harry had never been there, but he had heard much from wandering travelers of the splendour found in the mountain at Salamandastron. He considered himself fortunate to be headed there now.

Thinking it was about time to be taking off again, Harry was about to spread his wings and fly when he heard a rustling sound in the canopy branches of the forest to the right of his perch. A small squeak could be heard, as well, and Harry recognized it immediately—a rat.

Sir Harry hopped from his branch to another, and another, until he could clearly see the canopy of the tree. One second, he saw nothing, just leaves and the odd bird's nest. The next, swarms of little ratlike rodents with brightly painted, tattooed bodies sprang up as if our of nowhere. Harry recognized them immediately by their garb and weapons: the Painted Ones.

Sir Harry the Muse had never flown so fast in his entire life, although at the moment he thought nothing of that; for his mind was solely set on survival. It seemed as if hundreds of the little devils had emerged from the treetops, and many of them shot arrows up at the owl, screeching and hooting in their unintelligible squabble.

Harry dodged, ducked, twisted, and turned through the air as to avoid being hit. On his person he carried no weapons, so he had nothing to defend himself with. Arrows whizzed by his head like angry bees.

A Painted One stood out on a low-hanging branch, and, just to show them they were messing with the wrong owl, he swooped down on the breeze and snatched it right up in his talons. It didn't work as easily as he had hoped it would, for the rat struggled and bit at his claws something terrible, but when Harry reached a point above the river at which he knew was deep, he let go of the Painted One and it fell, squealing, until it hit the water and sunk.

Harry beat his wings insanely to escape the rat tribe, and within several minutes of dodging their arrows, he was safely away. The forest had all but diminished, only a few trees stood on the banks of the Moss.

After a quick rest, he was off again, with Salamandastron in view.

Many miles away, another bird avoided death. The Warden of Marshwood Hill was used to controlling his reptile subjects, but these assailants were much different. A pack of short, skinny weasels had taken up residence in the West Marshes, and the Warden did not like it one bit. For several days he had spied upon them, while simultaneously following the trail of a group of reptiles and toads that he had been tracking. In reality, these weasels were a rogue group of Flitchaye, a vermin tribe in Mossflower Woods, led by Dragoe, who had refused to accept alliance from the Coarc and headed north with his band.

The Warden was the grandson of the famous Warden whom had helped Martin the Warrior defeat Badrang the Tyrant at the Battle of Marshank. After the original Warden's death, his long-lost son had found the West Marshes and assumed rule, and when he passed on, the position was granted to the new Warden. All three Wardens were male herons, and all of their personalities blended into one, for they all acted the exact same.

Also since the time of the original Warden, each new ruler had been allowed a dipper as an informant and assistant, and they were descended from Dipper himself who had rescued Martin the Warrior, Laterose of Noonvale, Grumm Trencher, and Pallum the hedgehog from the Cannibal Lizards. Presently, the Warden's Dipper flew with him as Flitchaye arrows flew by.

Dipper spoke to the Warden as they flew. "We should move from the marshes, Warden! It is not safe! We will rid it of the beasts some day, but that is not today!"

For once, the Warden had to agree, and leave his boggy domain behind, but not after screeching back at the weasels one last time. "I am the laaaaaaaaaaaaaw!"

The arrows grew heavier as the two birds attempted to fly through the mud and gunk of the marsh. Dipper hit a branch in mid flight, and before he could reposition himself to continue, an arrow planted itself right above his leg. Dipper fell into a patch of grass far, far below.

The Warden squawked loudly and flew down to his friend. He ripped the arrow out of his friend with his beak, but blood poured out of the large wound.

Dipper coughed. "Go, friend. Escape the Marsh. Follow the reptiles. I cannot follow you any longer."

The heron would have none of it, and he turned to protect his friend from the oncoming Flitchaye. The weasels approached faster, and soon they all but surrounded the two birds.

Dipper uttered one last word to the Warden: "Fly!"

Seeing no alternative, the Warden of Marshwood Hill flew up into the air and watched in horror and grief as the savage weasels leapt upon Dipper, tearing and stabbing with their crude weapons and shouting in their squeaky tones.

And so, the Warden of Marshwood Hill flew across his large domain with a heavy heart, but a new purpose: to find out where the Cannibal Lizards and their toad allies had gone. He followed their tracks through endless miles of swamp and bog. Now and then, the Warden considered how gloomy his territory truly was. The water was always green or brown, and always stank. Most of it was poisonous, and clouds of insects were abundant. Fog, mist, and gloom floated in the air in thick sheets that were hard to see through. So, the Warden was pleased when the trail led out of the West Marshes, and into woodland. It was the outskirts of Mossflower, and the Warden followed the River Moss in the direction of Redwall.

It was early evening when the Warden was flying low over the river when he collided with another bird. They both regained their strength, and there they hovered, beating their wings above the River Moss.

Thus was how the Warden of Marshwood Hill and Sir Harry the Muse did meet.

The two perched on a large branch at the edge of the river bank. Sir Harry was trying to understand what the Warden was all about.

"So, let me see this straight,

How many of your subjects have you ate?"

The Warden nodded as he plunged his long bill into the water and came up with a fish. "Lots! I am the laaaaaaaaaw!"

"Why?" Harry asked.

After the Warden had gulped down his fish, he spread his wings wide and screeched. "Because I am the laaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!"

"And they are the lawbreakers?" Harry inquired.

"They are the lawbreakers, and I am the laaaaaaaaaw!" he squawked again.

They talked for several hours, and Sir Harry explained who he was, where he came from, and his mission. He also explained how he had just considered his route, and decided to fly south, to the Great South Broadstream, because it was along it that the entrance of the volcano was. Soon, the Warden had decided to accompany Sir Harry when he learned that the reptiles he was tracking were near Redwall, where they would return after Salamandastron.

And so, Sir Harry the Muse of Redwall and the Warden of Marshwood Hill, of the West Marshes, flew off together into the fading light, south, to follow the steady current of the Great South Stream.

Basil was teaching the younger Redwallers how to use slingshots with help from now official Abbey defender Sam Squirrel. Among the young ones was Rollo Bankvole, whom Cornflower and Tess Churchmouse were searching desperately for.

Some of the young ones showed good skill in hitting the straw targets that had been set up, but most did not. Rollo became angry when he could not hit a single one. Pouting, he waddled off until he was found by an even angrier Tess, who pulled him away by the ear.

It was during these days that the Abbot really started to bond with Martin. As he knew nothing of fighting, the Abbot usually spent his time with the elderly or the young. The Abbot really started to care for the rascal, a bond that would prove useful in the future.

The Great Hall was the only room in the Abbey that was not buzzing with life. Everybeast had emptied out, for two practiced alone within. Matthias and Mattimeo dueled, trusting each other not to accidentally cut the other.

Matthias fell back after another would-be devastating blow from his son. He panted for air, the ragged breathing of an elderly mouse catching on. "Well, Mattimeo, I think you're gettin' better than your ole' dad!"

Mattimeo helped his father up, although his attention was elsewhere. A cloudy look covered the mouse's eyes.

"What is it, Mattimeo?" Matthias asked.

Bloodwrath surged through Matthias. He stared darkly at his father. "I will kill Bhriina. I promise. I promise to Jube. Jabez Stump will be avenged."

With a wink to try and cheer his son up, Matthias reached for his sword. "Not if I kill her first, son! Ha!"

Without even looking at his father, Mattimeo stormed out of the room, slamming the great wood doors behind him, leaving a weary warrior all to himself.

The following morning, the Abbot ordered that two parties of Redwall Defenders were to go out from the Abbey and perform a border patrol. These had to be done regularly after the passing of Squire Julian Gingivere and Captain Snow the owl, who used to do this for the Abbey. One team was to be led by Matthias, and the other by Mattimeo.

Mattimeo's team set off southwest, only because the Abbot forbade southeasterly travel due to the location of the vermin camp. He chose to take Sam Squirrel, Jube Stump, Basil and Cheek, Winifred, and Auma. Through field and forest, the group marched, searching for any enemy signs.

Jube's sadness over the demise of his father had morphed into hatred of the vermin. As they paraded through Mossflower, he ranted. "If we find a single one o' them beastly lot, we should slay 'em where they be! No prisoners!"

Mattimeo cut off his idea. "Jube, the Abbot specifically said that if we were to find any enemy patrols, we are to capture them and bring them back to Redwall. No killing unless necessary, Mr. Stump."

Jube was disappointed but continued walking silently.

Winifred conversed with Basil over the state of Cheek's fighting ability, loudly enough that the ambitious otter could hear. She added sarcastic notes to her tone of voice to mock the rascal. "Well, I dunno, Basil, he seems a bit young."

"We were all a bit young durin' the Cluny campaign, wot wot!" Basil replied.

Winifred glanced back at Cheek and smiled. "Well, I dunno, is he trained enough?"

Cheek was silently fuming.

"I bally hope so, wot! Why else are we taking him on this patrol?" Basil put in.

This satisfied Cheek, and his playful anger at Winifred left him.

Suddenly, Auma held up her paw, and they stopped. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

"Hear what?" Sam asked.

He was answered by a rustle in the bushes to their left, along the bank of a small creek that eventually flowed into the Great South Stream.

Silently and carefully, Mattimeo crept over to the bush and pulled apart its branches. He almost swung his sword when he realized it was only a young fieldmouse.

"Are they gone?" she whispered.

"Is who gone?" Mattimeo asked the fieldmouse.

Two rats, a weasel, a stoat, and a ferret leapt out of the bushes a distance away down the creek, on the opposite bank. One of the rats spotted Mattimeo at once, and shouted to his comrades. "There! Get 'em!"

Crude daggers, swords, knives, and spears appeared from the vermin patrol as they splashed across the creek. Mattimeo drew his own sword and lashed out, cutting the ferret's head clean off.

Jube could be heard yelling. "No fair! You said only capture!"

As soon as the Redwallers had drawn their weapons and the fieldmouse was safely behind Auma, a second group of vermin, this one larger, with at least ten members, crossed the creek. Sam cut a weasel across the chest, and Cheek threw a well-aimed rock at a rat that Winifred subsequently killed.

Another patrol of five vermin heard the screams and clanking of metal and ran to join their fellows. Another one joined that patrol, and soon, twenty-five vermin stood in front of the Redwallers. Mattimeo rushed into them, cutting down two, but was pushed back by a burly stoat.

Winifred glanced up from a ferret she had slain to see another creature walking slowly across the river. A fully grown, muscle-bound wolverine towered over his patrols.

"RUN!" Winifred yelled. "I'LL HOLD THEM OFF!"

"No!" Mattimeo shouted back. "We're staying!"

Winifred shot a cold glare at Mattimeo. "Go, Mattimeo! If I don't make it, tell them I fell bravely!"

He could tell the otter was serious, so he rounded up his friends and they ran for dear life through Mossflower Wood.

The vermin stood at the ready in front of their one opponent. Winifred notched an arrow and pulled it back. When she released it, the arrow planted itself in the wolverine's shoulder.

Lowering down to charge on all paws, the arrow sticking out of his side, Stonegor the wolverine ran at Winifred. She loosed another arrow on the charging beast, but it hit him in the other side, and he kept coming.

Desperate, Winifred pulled her sword and leapt out of the way, moving into the vermin ranks, slashing this way and that, felling foebeasts under her silver blade.

Stonegor routed himself and turned around, charging at her again. This time, the agile otter leapt up onto his back. Winifred raised her sword and cut deeply into Stonegor's back, but he would not fall.

The wolverine threw her off, and she landed next to the creek bank, dirty, cut, and bruised. Stonegor stood back as the vermin marched on her.

Even whilst lying in the dust, she slew many of them. But there were too many. The hordebeasts of the Coarc piled onto Winifred, and with one last kill, her body slipped into the river with a dagger in her chest.

As she slipped out of life, Winifred had yelled to the wolverine. "YOU'LL NEVER WIN! YOU'LL NEVER WIN!"

The body of Winifred Otter accepted the flow of the creek, and was carried along until for mile upon mile until it fell into the Great South Stream.

Covodre sat in the makeshift bar tent, chugging Seaweed Grog that was brewed sloppily and quickly by the searats of Cap'n Hookhound, who were quite addicted to their drink. Covodre was having the Scorpion Sting variety, although they also had Strong Addersting, Old Turtlebeak, Shark's Tooth, Olde Lobsterclaw, and the all-time favourite Blistery Barnacle, which was presently being enjoyed by Hookhound himself, across the tent.

Hordebeasts crowded around Covodre, asking him all sorts of questions. The fox Greychop pressured Covodre with many of these. "How many days until we attack the Abbey?" "How are the catapults doing?" "Can't we get some better food around here?"

But, unlike Bhriina, Covodre never became overly angry with the mindless beasts of the horde, because he knew they were just that: mindless, stupid, wretched beasts. Unlike him, they had no potential to learn, or to advance, and there was no reason to punish them for that. Besides, Covodre was a favourite among the horde. Everybeast loved him. That could come in handy.

Covodre stared down at his drink and began to realize just how nasty the drink truly was. What he would give for a cup of the ale they had at Redwall, which he had only ever tasted but once, but desired much now.

Spitting a swig of grog out, Covodre complained to his cronies. "Why can't we get some decent spirits around here?"

A very superstitious and quite dimwitted rat known as Halfhead (his name was quite fitting due to his stupidity), of Hookhound's crew, started to shake nervously and glance about the tent. "S…s….spirits? W…w...what k…kind o' spirits?"

Covodre sighed and explained. "Not ghosts! Drinks!"

After a moment of consideration, Halfhead nodded. "Spirits! Aye!"

Covodre stretched his back. "I would do anything for a mug o' that October ale they got at Redwall! Perhaps we'll be able to snag some from the Abbey—after it's rubble!"

This earned a chorus of hearty cackling from the Coarc minions. Amid their laughter, a light emerged in Halfhead's brain.

After Covodre had departed to his tent, Halfhead revealed his plan to some of his fellow vermin who lagged behind.

"Right, so we're gonna sneak in the Abbey, get some o' that drink for Covodre, and get out, real quick and silent like! Can ya imagine the look on 'is face when we shows 'im what we've found?" Halfhead said.

Greychop interjected. "Yer crazy, Halfie, it'll never work! We'll get caught for sure, remember what happened to those other chaps who went in there?"

An ermine mercenary called Blackback whom was appropriately named for the large black spot on his back amongst white fur put in his opinion. "Aye, and maybe they wasn't tryin' hard enough to be sneaky like!"

The fourth member of their secret planning, Bagboot, one of the only ferrets of Hookhound's crew, spoke up. "I say, we go! Right now!"

Apparently, that did it for the three other dimwitted vermin, and they crept out of the tent, down the hill, and onto the road without a single beast noticing.

The four vermin had walked around the back side of the Abbey, pressing themselves up against the cool red sandstone and creeping along silently.

Greychop spotted an extremely small hole, just big enough for the eye to see in, on the wall of the Abbey. He peered in and then whispered excitedly to his comrades. "Ohoho, boys, we're in luck! Have a look!"

The hole they had found was in the wall of the Abbey cellar, where barrels upon barrels of the Redwallers' drinks were kept. In the middle of it all, Ambrose Spike dozed in his chair, as he had been doing progressively more in his older days.

The vermin chuckled quietly. Halfhead addressed the group. "We're gonna sneak in and take a whole barrel o' that stuff back to camp!"

"How d' ye think we'll do that now, rat? They've got guards and beasts wanderin' everywhere in that ole' place! An' there's an 'edgepig right in there!" Blackback exclaimed.

Bagboot had apparently found a solution. He was wiggling his sword in the small hole, making it bigger every second.

Halfhead started stamping the ground with his footpaws, and yell-whispered at Bagboot. "What are you doing? Are you insane? They'll see!"

Now, every vermin present was extremely dimwitted in the head, but their leader Halfhead had to be the most idiotic of the bunch. He had never learned to read or write, and knew next to nothing. But that didn't matter to Cap'n Hookhound of the Western Seas, because all he needed was muscle, and Halfhead had that. Had Halfhead been an ounce smarter, he would have realized that Bagboot's actions wouldn't be noticed by anyone other than Ambrose.

And presently, with a snort, Ambrose awoke to see a swordpoint wiggling about in the hole. The old hedgehog walked over to the wall, where he kept a rack of weapons, and pulled out a short sword he favoured.

Ambrose opened the door on the opposite end of the cellar and shouted out for all of the Abbey to hear. "VERMIN! VERMIN AT THE CELLAR! VERMIN AT THE CELLAR!"

The Coarc members heard his shout, and all four began to contribute to the hole that was growing in the Abbey wall. Halfhead yelled to his comrades. "Come on, we ain't givin' up after all o' this! Let's get that ale!" 

The hole burst open, and it was just big enough for a beast to fit through. All four piled inside and looked around. Barrels stood everywhere, and they gaped in awe at how much drinking the Redwallers must have done. Greychop came to his senses first. "Come on, then, grab a barrel!"

They positioned themselves around a barrel and prepared to roll it as an otter entered the room and fired an arrow at the vermin. It barely missed Bagboot's head.

"ROLL IT! THROW IT OUT OF THE HOLE!" Halfhead yelled.

Another arrow whizzed at the vermin, and this one was a hit. Greychop fell to the floor twitching with the arrow firmly implanted in his side, but he was not dead.

Halfhead and Blackback watched in horror as a fully-grown male badger (who was Orlando the Axe) charged into the room, grabbed Bagboot in his huge paws, and ripped the poor ferret into pieces with razor-sharp claws.

Blackback heaved the ale out of the hole, and along with Halfhead, they rolled it back down the road as arrows flew towards them from the Abbey. While they stumbled and tripped, neither of them fell, and soon they were out of sight.


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning was busy yet again. Redwallers continued to train and prepare, and some wondered if it would go on like that forever. The body of Bagboot had been tossed into the pit that was dug for the looming conflict. If any Redwallers were to fall, they would be given individual graves, but the vermin that fell were all to be heaved in one hole. Greychop the fox was still alive, miraculously, and was being cared for in the infirmary with the leftover and old supplies that were unneeded.

The gaping hole in the side of the Abbey was being repaired by Ambrose and Riverjack, the otter whom had shot at the vermin the previous night. Riverjack was of Skipper Rovrew's crew. The Skipper's otters had arrived late in the prior evening, just in time to consume a large cauldron of hotroot soup. Apparently, Mattimeo had tasked a Sparra scout with locating and recruiting the otters for the fight.

Ambrose and Riverjack heaved the last of the spare sandstone blocks into its place and the hole disappeared. Paste was added to hold the blocks in place, and the hedgehog and otter stepped back to admire their work. Even in the short period of time they had worked together, their personalities allowed them to become fast friends. Riverjack joked with the cellarhog. "Aye, Ambrose, methinks that work deserves a reward!"

Ambrose peered over at his newfound friend and winked. "Hotroot soup?" he said, as Riverjack simultaneously did. They laughed, and, inside, Ambrose was beginning to forget Jabez's death. Ambrose was never one to get over-emotional, so he was coping well.

Presently, Skipper Rovrew entered the cellar. Riverjack tried to straighten up at once, but compressed giggles escaped as he saluted his chief. The Skipper was an impressive figure. A rapier was belted at his side, ready for action. He had taken it from the leader of a rat clan that the otters had slain some years ago. In the same conflict, the Skipper had lost an eye, so he adorned a black eye patch.

The Skipper silenced Riverjack's laughter. "Come, Riverjack, see the condition of the lowly vermin which ya' injured last night. He's in the infirmary."

Riverjack was puzzled. "Infirmary? What for? Just slay the creep!"

The Skipper huffed at Riverjack. "What kind o' manners is that, soldier? We don't just slay beasts! And we're in Redwall, a place of peace! Try being kinder!"

They both marched off, although Riverjack's gait was in fact more of a trudge, and Ambrose in tow.

Sister May welcomed the otters and hedgehog into the infirmary. Only a few Redwallers were in it, and their ailments were not those of war.

Greychop the fox was lying in the bed farthest from the door, grumbling and tossing about. His injury was clearly visible, as he had a large bloodstained wound in his side.

Riverjack went off as soon as they reached the fox. "Ah, shut yer whinin', vermin. You'll be outta here before ye can say 'hotroot soup'!"

The Skipper pushed Riverjack aside gently. "Let me handle this one." He knelt down to eye level with the fox. "Now, listen here, fox. You're going to heal. And then you're to get out. Get out and never come back. You're not to go back to that camp of yours or nothin', no sir. You're gonna go north along that road until ye freeze, understood?"

The fox nodded quickly, obviously put off by the otter's tone of voice.

"Good. I hope for your sake that ye get better fast, fox!" the Skipper said, and they departed from the infirmary.

Greychop turned himself over so that he was facing the wall, and sniggered to himself. There was no way he was just going to leave without taking a few of these weak ones with him.

Mattimeo pounded his fists on the Abbot's desk in anger. "First Jabez, now I go and get Winifred killed! What a fool am I, Father Abbot?"

The Abbot patted Mattimeo on the back gently as he broke out sobbing. "There, there, Mattimeo, it's not your fault, it's those dastardly vermin!"

He ripped away from the Abbot. "NO! It's MY fault they're dead!"

After he had walked a few paces off, the Abbot spoke quietly. "Maybe it is your father's fault, Mattimeo."

Mattimeo could not believe what was happening, but his current conflict with his father took control of him. "It's him! IT'S ALL HIM! He's the one!"

Bloodwrath was raging through the warrior's veins, and he stormed out of the room.

A wicked grin spread across Abbot Carnlo's face a second after the door shut.

In the camp of the Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs, Bhriina was receiving a multitude of reports. Some were pleasing, such as the readiness of several more catapults, and some were not, like the one that an injured Stonegor was giving her at the moment.

"You mean to say that a single otter took out nearly all of your scouting party?"

Stonegor shifted his weight to the other leg. "She was insane, Milady! She killed many of our troops before I could slay her."

If she had the means to, Bhriina might have killed him right there. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was incompetent officers. But, she knew she would never take him down, and he was actually one of the better lieutenants. While she hated them all, Stonegor was a nice one to have. He had war skills most did not, and she knew he and his few fellow wolverines in the Coarc would be their only line of defense against the badgers of Redwall.

"Get out" was all she said to him, and he was away.

Covodre once again lounged in the bar tent, and he was finally free from all the vermin wanting his attention. His peace was broken when Halfhead and Blackback came stumbling into the tent with a barrel of October ale.

Halfhead and Blackback climbed off of the barrel and pointed to it excitedly. When Covodre showed no signs of emotion, they stood awkwardly, pointing.

"What is it?" Covodre finally said, still uninterested.

"October ale, from Redwall!" Halfhead exclaimed gloriously.

Covodre walked up to the barrel and ran his fingers along the wooden sides, now captivated. "How did you manage to stumble upon this?"

"Oh, we didn't stumble, sir, we snuck right into that ole' Abbey and stole it for ya!" Blackback remarked.

Covodre's smile disappeared. "You snuck into Redwall Abbey _just _to get me _beer_?"

"Technically, it's ale, sir, and we only lost Bagboot and Greychop!" Halfhead said.

"You lost two soldiers on a _whim _that I was reminiscing about _drinks_?" Covodre said.

"Oh, yes, sir," Blackback added, as if it was a good thing.

Covodre pulled his broadsword out of its sheath. It was perfectly polished, right down to its golden handle on which sat a gleaming ruby.

Halfhead was puzzled. "Ain't that a bit too big for openin' a barrel, sir?"

Before he could receive his answer, he and Blackback were on the ground, their severed heads rolling out of the tent and down the hill.

The other vermin only paused from their drinks for a moment, merely glancing at the dead bodies of two of their comrades.

At that precise moment, Bhriina walked in.

"He is here."

Bhriina and Covodre reached their tent and sat down at the wooden table. Across from them sat Carnlo, whom had sneaked out of Redwall, straight-faced and unmoving.

The Abbot of Redwall began at once. "They believe they can beat you. They cannot. Soon it will be time, friends. Crush the Abbey with your might, and leave none alive."

Bhriina leaned closer and spoke in a low tone, because Wastrop was on guard duty a few pawsteps away and she didn't want him to know everything. "Are your plans in motion?"

Carnlo sat back nonchalantly. "It is already beginning. Mattimeo is being turned against his father. Soon, he will be one of us."

"Four mice. The prophecy," Covodre said mysteriously.

"He will never see it coming, though. He believes that he is one of the targets. Remember the M & M note we left? He thinks he's the other M," Bhriina said.

Covodre chipped in. "Have you bonded with 'the other M', Carnlo?"

The false Abbot grinned. "Yes. Very much. He will be easy to seduce, and I have the plan set up. I'll take the babe hostage when you're waging your war and I will be untouchable!"

"Will that not turn Mattimeo against us?" Covodre reasoned.

Carnlo smirked. "The warrior will be out fighting. He will never know about his son!"

Bhriina smiled. "Oh, Carnlo, you were the only one in that Abbey that either of us could ever befriend."

"Yes, and I have managed to become the leader of said Abbey. I have bought you your time. I have waited for seasons. Now, complete your end of the bargain. Destroy Redwall! Tomorrow night, you will strike!" Carnlo said.

He quickly stole out of the tent and back to Redwall.

Bhriina and Covodre called the lieutenants to their tent and began to prepare.

Sir Harry the Muse and the Warden of Marshwood Hill were almost to Salamandastron. The breeze was soft and easy to fly in, and the two friends glided along the last stretch of the Great South Stream.

"What's that?" the Warden asked, pointing a claw down at an object floating in the water.

Sir Harry studied the object for several minutes before it hit him—it was a body!

"A body! A body! A dead otter's corpse!" Sir Harry said. He refrained from poetry when talking of something serious, such as the death of another.

They flew low to investigate. It was indeed the bloody body of a female otter, with a dagger right through the centre. Sir Harry looked harder with his incredible sight and gasped aloud in shock. "I know this creature! This is Winifred Otter of Redwall!"

Sir Harry decided to let Winifred's body go with the tide and eventually dump into the ocean. He recalled that she had always said that when she died she wanted to be 'one with her element'. He could only assume that, being an otter, her element was water.

At midday, the two birds reached Salamandastron. They landed on the ground in front of it and looked in awe. The volcano was huge, unlike anything any of them had either seen. While it no longer spewed lava and ash, it was still a formidable peak. Stone balconies were built in the slopes, and, inside, hares could be seen busily at work. They forged metals, they crafted materials of iron, and they heaved lumber. It was a true fortress.

Sir Harry and the Warden flew up to the entrance and waited for the grand metal doors, which had beautifully crafted artwork of warrior badgers on them, waiting to be let in.

Soon, several very brusque-looking hares emerged from Salamandastron and stared the two birds down.

Sir Harry began.

"Here on an errand am I,

Sent by Matthias of Redwall, but why?

Evil does loom at the Abbey, indeed

The might of your warriors, we truly do need."

A hare guard nudged one of his comrades. "This is bally crazy. What's a heron and an owl doin' up here, wot?"

A hare whom wore significantly less armour, and simply had a sword strapped to his side, pushed his way through the others. "They are supposed to be here, Rutep! Silence! Let them in, let them in!"

Sir Harry hadn't a clue how the hare had known they were coming, but he entered anyways. The sight before them was magnificent. An entire city had been constructed within the volcano, and the hares mined and used the lava that flowed around them to forge their dwellings. At least a hundred hares had to have lived there, and most of them were obviously busy at work.

He and the Warden were led into a dusty old room with many a book and scroll stuffed in its cases. Along the top of the walls ran a series of images. Most were of badgers, other than one of a mouse and the ones that shocked Sir Harry the most. There was an image of him. An image of he and the Warden. An image of he and the Warden leading the hares into battle. And an image of a badger whom appeared to be Orlando the Axe.

"How is this possible?" Sir Harry breathed.

The hare who had let them in, whom Sir Harry had just noticed was quite elderly but still strong of build and quite formidable, spoke. "We do not know how these inscriptions came to be, but we do know that they are always true. They predict what will happen in the future. We were expecting you, Sit Harry the Muse, and you, Warden of Marshwood Hill."

"Who are you?" the Warden asked. His manner of speech was never polite. Sir Harry might have said, "And who might you be, kind sir?", but the Warden was not taught such speech, and rarely spoke at all.

The hare turned to face the Warden. "I am Lorsca, general of the Long Patrol and keeper of Salamandastron. Now, if we could get right to it, please explain the current situation."

Sir Harry began right away. He told Lorsca all he knew, from the day they discovered the horde right up to the day they left.

The hare seemed underwhelmed when he was done, as if a massive horde was no threat. But he did seem ready to fight. "Righto, we'll leave in two days' time!"

"No offense, but my friends could be dead in two days' time," Sir Harry cautioned.

The hare looked at the owl with a puzzled look, and before turning away, said, "We leave tomorrow. We should be there by the next nightfall."

Dinner at Salamandastron was unlike any meal Sir Harry or the Warden had ever seen. It was no mere banquet. There was every type of feasting food imaginable, and the hares dove into it like it was a pond. Now, Sir Harry had of course seen Basil pack it in, but never a hundred hares at once.

Sir Harry was sitting next to one of the hares that had let him into the mountain, Corporal Rutep, along with his female friend Colour Sergeant Relab.

The thing that was bothering Sir Harry was that he had come to receive an army under the command of a badger lord, and he saw no badger at all.

He nudged Rutep.

"Do you have a badger here?

For in the vermin, he would instill fear!"

Between bites of food, Rutep explained. "No badger lord right now, sah! Just a'waitin' for the next one at the moment, wot wot!"

"You just wait for badger? Always wait until one comes?" the Warden asked from across the table. "Seem silly to the laaaaw."

Rutep sniggered and whispered to Sir Harry. "Your friend there is somethin' else, eh sah? A bally mess, I'd say, wot!"

Before Sir Harry could form a rebuttal, General Lorsca stood up at the head of the table and blew on a horn a distinctive call that Sir Harry recognized as the war call of the Long Patrol.

"Brothers! Sisters! Tomorrow morning, we depart for Redwall Abbey! We will fight the horde that threatens their peaceful ways and restore justice!"

With that, the hares of Salamandastron retired for the night. Sir Harry and the Warden were each directed to rooms by Lorsca. Before he left, Sir Harry pulled him aside. "Not all of your warriors will make it."

"I know that. We are prepared to die in order to go along with the prophecy," he said.

"Prophecy?" Sir Harry asked.

A cloudy look took over Lorsca's eyes. "Four mice. Only one lives."

Before Sir Harry could even ask what he was talking about, the hare ran off.

He spent the rest of the night wondering who the four mice could be, and what it meant that only one lives. He concluded "only one lives" meant that three of the four were destined to die, but who _were _the four mice?

Early the next morning, they set off. War drums and horns were put in place. Hares lined up by their ranks, armed to the teeth. By the second hour after dawn, a fully functional army left Salamandastron, leaving behind only the elderly and the young.


	9. Chapter 9

Hundreds and hundreds of vermin prepared for the battle they had been waiting for. Crude weapons were stowed in every place possible, and most of the horde also carried long spears. The horde stood out on the road, ready to march across the river. The original strategy was being used, the horde would go out in front of the Abbey and charge with battering rams, while other small groups went around to the other walls.

Bhriina, Covodre, and Wastrop stood at the head of the horde. Covodre called out to them. "Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs! Hear me now! Many of you will die, but it shall be for a noble cause—to destroy the puny beasts of Redwall Abbey! Now, WE MARCH!"

Long boards were laid out across the river for the purpose acting as bridges, rolling the catapults across the creek. The vermin splashed noisily across it, bounding and leaping to get ahead of their comrades. They all wanted the chance to slaughter innocent beasts more than the others, or so they thought. All the rage of the horde was combined into the fury of Bhriina herself. Never had she felt so alive as her soldiers ran through Mossflower Woods, throwing torches and lighting the trees aflame. Had the population of Mossflower not been at Redwall, they would be running out of their fire-filled homes.

Amid the running vermin, Bhriina and Covodre paused on a rock sticking out of the ground, perched above their horde, and kissed. Bhriina wanted to kill him then, to shove her knife in his pathetic gut, but she refrained for the moment. The time would come to do away with the troublesome Covodre. Of course she knew there would be desertion and betrayal after it if she did it where beasts could see, so she would have to do it discreetly when nobeast was watching, but not with poison or anything of the sort—she preferred to see her victim's horrified face as a blade pierced their flesh.

Large stones had been found by a scouting party around a quarry (which Bhriina knew not to go in because of rumors of giant snakes within) to be used in the battle. They were lined with spikes administered by Blackclaw and Stumpwhisker.

And, among all the horde's might, Bhriina kept her promise. Atop a pike she held was the dead body of Jabez Stump.

Somehow in Redwall a sense of fear had arisen on this morning, and everybeast within somehow knew that today, the attack would come. Guards with bows and quivers full of arrows were posted all along the tops of the walls, including expert squirrel archers that had arrived very late in the previous night.

On the Abbey grounds stood every beast able to bear arms. The Skipper's motley crew stood ready with rapiers, the Brothers and Sisters of Redwall stood with their swords, and Orlando, Constance, and Auma were put into armour.

In the midst of it all, Matthias the Warrior pulled his sword. Next to him were all of his Redwaller friends. Basil and Cheek stood ready, Sam and Jess were armed, and Log-a-Log Flugg and the Foremole were prepared.

In the near distance, drums and horns could be heard: they were those of war. The horde was approaching swiftly.

Basil cried out as the vermin ranks became visible in the clearing. "Let's give 'em blood and vinegar, Redwallers!"

Orlando pulled his axe out and roared. "EULALIAAAA!"

A single tear fell from the eye of Matthias, landing softly with an inaudible splash on the soft grass of Redwall Abbey.

Abbot Carnlo had taken shelter with the old and the young inside the Great Hall. He talked with Mattimeo the Warrior before he went out to fight.

"Remember, Mattimeo. If your father tries to do anything, don't hesitate. Take over. I think he may be secretly in league with the vermin," the Abbot whispered.

Mattimeo never realized what he was doing as he handed little Martin over to the Abbot. "I will, Father Abbot. Take good care of Martin, please."

"Of course," Carnlo said, and as the Warrior walked off, he went into a passageway with Martin II, son of Mattimeo the Warrior and Tess Churchmouse, closely held.

What the Abbot did not know was that Cornflower had witnessed the entire thing.

Greychop heard the drums of his army outside Redwall, and decided to make his move. His wound had healed, and he was ready to escape.

The fox looked around to make sure there was nobeast about in the infirmary, and leapt up out of his bed. They had taken his weapon, so he grabbed an unlit torch from the wall, and starting walking towards the door.

Suddenly, Sister May popped into the room and saw Greychop. Immediately realizing what was taking place, she grabbed a medical knife from her counter and said, "Dirty fox! I never should have let you in here!"

Greychop picked up a jar of medicine and threw it at Sister May, but she dodged it. He threw an assortment of things, any object he could find, but she dodged them all.

Sister May leapt at Greychop, swinging the knife. He used a large book as a shield, trying to protect himself from her wild jabs.

Skipper Rovrew had been outside, and heard the commotion. He presently burst into the room and fired an arrow at Greychop. It did not hit, and Greychop ran at the otter, tackling him. Holding the otter on the floor, the fox fumbled for a knife on the table above, and got one. No matter how the Skipper struggled, the fox held him down. "This is for the arrow, otter!" Greychop said, before plunging the blade into the Skipper.

Just as he pulled the knife out, a piece of wood hit Greychop hard in the back. Sister May desperately threw objects at him, and he rushed at her. But Sister May was quicker with her paws than the fox had thought, and he stabbed him in the gut with the medical knife. She kicked away his carcass and ran to the Skipper. He was barely breathing.

She sobbed and tried to think of something to save him, but he stopped her. "Sister…Sister May…don't try…leave me…make Riverjack the new Skipper…"

And thus, Rovrew, Skipper of Otters, headed to the Dark Forest.

Matthias had moved up to the battlements, where he was joined by some of his closer friends as they watched the uncountable number of vermin forming up to attack the Abbey.

Jube saw Bhriina first. She and Covodre, accompanied by an important-looking stoat, were standing in a clearing amongst the swarm of vermin. But that was not why Jube saw her. He saw her because on her spear perched his father's limp form.

Jube went blind with rage. "I'LL KILL HER! I'LL KILL THE LOT! AAARRRGH!"

Before he could be calmed down, an immensely loud war horn was blown from the vermin and the infantrybeasts rushed at Redwall. The catapults were left behind and were beginning to be loaded with boulders.

The archers on the battlements fired arrow upon arrow down at the vermin, slaying many. But all of those arrows only made a dent in the number of creatures.

Now, the vermin began to dissipate and surround the entire structure, with attackers on all sides. The archers of Redwall responded by sending several of their ranks to the other walls.

The vermin carried in ladders and began to set them up on the sides of the Abbey. Some of them were pushed back over by Redwallers, but many of them were successful, and vermin poured onto the battlements, and killed most of the archers before they knew what was happening.

Matthias pulled his sword, as did Sam Squirrel, and together they hacked back at vermin that had come up the ladders. While he fought, all Matthias could think about was Mattimeo. Where was he? What was he doing? Where was he fighting? Was he fighting at all? But he was distracted from these thoughts when the vermin on the battlements were all dead, and he looked down. They were using a large wooden battering ram on the front gates, and beasts were barricading it in any way possible, usually with only themselves.

But the vermin broke in. Rats, weasels, ferrets, foxes, stoats, and even reptiles poured into Redwall, killing innocent defenders left and right. Matthias ran into the fray, cutting down vermin after vermin. But, not for the first time, Matthias began to grow weary. His old bones were not as easily used as they once were. And he wondered once more. Where was his son?

His questions were answered as he saw Mattimeo for the first time since the beginning of the battle, striding through, cutting vermin this way and that. But his eyes were not focused upon the vermin he killed.

They were focused straight upon Matthias.

Orlando had no idea how many vermin he had killed, but he knew it was more than anyone else in the Abbey. His powerful stride and long arms allowed him to swing his axe further than any other defender, and his pure might and size allowed him to crush vermin. Constance and Auma were doing the same thing he was when he spotted the wolverines.

Stonegor charged through the battle with two of his fellow wolverine mercenaries, in the general direction of the badgers. When they were close enough, Orlando leapt at one of them, and they dueled. After several minutes of intense grappling, Orlando decapitated the wolverine with his axe.

Constance was fighting with Stonegor across the Abbey grounds. They tore and clawed at each other's hides, spraying the Abbey grass with blood. Constance seemed to be taking the edge, and just as she was about to make the final blow, she felt a large pain in her thigh. She looked back in horror to see an arrow protruding from her leg. It was fired by none other than Nipsnout, the same weasel archer who had killed Jabez Stump.

Constance tried to cry out for help, for she now faced two adversaries, but Orlando was nowhere to be seen, and Auma was busy with another wolverine. She ended up decided to go with the larger threat, and continued tearing at Stonegor.

While the wolverine was by no means unscathed, he was still able to fight after all of her clawing, and picked up a sword from a fallen Redwall mouse. He swung it expertly around and lunged at Constance.

Having no weapon, she dodged out of the way and looked frantically about for a weapon. Stonegor wildly thrust the sword down, trying to stab her, but she rolled out of the way and his sword got stuck in the ground.

This was her chance—and she found a sword lying next to a dead fox. She brought it up just as Stonegor regained himself and thrust his sword at her, and their blades locked. Hatred flowed through both of them as they twisted and hacked their way around the battlefield.

Constance fell to her knees as another arrow penetrated her opposite leg. "AAAAGH!"

Stonegor walked shakily up to her. "Had enough, badger?" he said confidently.

"Not quite," she said, quite to his astonishment, and, using her footpaws to shift around, she continued slashing at him with her sword.

Nipsnout had gone up to the battlements. He pulled another arrow back and let it loose. It hit Constance in the back, but she miraculously kept going. He never got a chance to fire the fourth arrow, however, because Orlando appeared and split him in two.

"CONSTANCE!" he yelled, seeing his friend with three arrows in her body and still fighting. "CONSTANCE!"

She looked up at him.

She smiled.

And Stonegor killed her.

"NOOOOOOO!" Orlando screamed. He used all of his might to fling himself off of the battlements. He raised his axe as he flew through the air and brought it down just as he landed, right into the flesh of Stonegor. The force of the swing cut the wolverine crisply and neatly, and blood spilled out onto the grass, coating fall leaves in its red ooze.

Orlando threw his axe to the ground and took up Constance's limp head gently in his arms, cradling her and crying. He stroked her head, and whispered to her. "I love you."

Even as he wept, Orlando knew that the fight was not yet over, and the battle still raged around him. He saw innocent woodlanders fall to pirate scimitars, he saw valiant Guosim shrews pierced by killed by pirates, and he saw squirrels and otters that bravely volunteered to fight beheaded. And as fighting raged around him, something, something deep within Orlando the Axe simply snapped.

A rat ran at Orlando, and the badger grabbed him. He held the vermin high above his head and tore its body apart with his bare paws.

He picked up his weapon and leapt back into battle. He fought like no one had ever done before, killing vermin just by knocking them aside with his might. Something was flowing through his veins that he did not know he possessed. It was bloodwrath, which was present in the veins of the Badger Lords of Salamandastron.

The Abbot quietly stepped into his private room with Martin, and set him on the table. Immediately the youngster began asking questions. "Why are we in here, Fatha' Abbot?"

"Because it is safe in here, Martin," the Abbot assured, searching through his desk drawers for the right knife to end Martin's life.

"Where's my daddeh', Fatha' Abbot?"

The Abbot answered without looking up. "He is out fighting to save all of us, Martin."

"Can't I help 'im, Fatha' Abbot?"

"You're too young, Martin. You'll help him someday."

The Abbot finally found what he was looking for: a knife, the perfect size for slitting one's throat. Not too big, not too small, and just the right sharpness, it was the Abbot's favourite weapon in the world. He had his name scrawled in the handle: CARNLO.

It had been his personal knife in the time before he became Abbot of Redwall, when he was out assisting Covodre in rallying the Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs together. He had been a secret ally of the two mice all along, as he had been a close friend of Covodre in his childhood years. He had used the very knife to kill Mordalfus, the Abbot who had served before him. They all believed that Mordalfus had died of old age, but in reality, he had been killed by Carnlo in the night without a single scream.

Carnlo walked towards Martin with the knife, and, naturally, Martin asked a question. "What's that for, Fatha' Abbot?"

"Oh, just a little test. You're special, Martin, very special. You could be the best warrior in the land if this goes alright," the Abbot said, in his most soothing, soft, calming voice, as he walked around the table Martin sat upon, stroking the knife with a fingernail.

"Ooh! The best warriah' in the land! Sounds good, Fatha' Abbot!"

The Abbot instructed Martin to lie down on the table, and he did so. Carnlo began to position the knife in a way so that it would be easy to kill Martin with no mess or yelling, and Martin knew no better, so he never once tried to escape. This was the purpose of Carnlo's befriending of Martin—so that Martin would trust him completely.

Something happened next that the Abbot had never intended. Cornflower threw open the doors of the room and walked in with a knife of her own. "DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM!"

Carnlo retreated from Martin, acting falsely afraid of the old mousewife. "Oh, dearie me, however shall I live with myself?"

Cornflower tried to look tough, and pointed her knife closer to him. "Don't you touch my son! Don't you ever touch my grandson! Ever! Do you hear me, you impostor?"

He laughed. "Impostor? I am Abbot Carnlo. I am the rightful leader of this Abbey!"

"Mordalfus was the rightful leader of Redwall! But age had to take him!" she said, with a quiver of fear in her voice.

He let it out, short and sweet. "A pity I killed him, then."

She gasped, speechless.

"Now, my dearest Cornflower, I'm afraid you must be going, this is a private matter!" the Abbot said, like it would make any difference.

"YOU WERE GOING TO KILL HIM! I SAW THE KNIFE, YOU TRAITOR!" she yelled, and tried to grab Martin, who slinked back farther into the middle of the table, scared and torn between the love of his grandmother and the trust of his Abbot.

"M and M," Carnlo said. "They both must go." In saying this, he had no idea that she knew something of the prophecy.

She gasped again, and whispered under her breath. "M and M. It's not Mattimeo. It's Martin." She dropped her knife, and it clattered to the floor.

She looked out the window at the battle below to see her husband and her son locking blades, and she was mortified.

"YOU MONSTER! YOU BRUTE!" she yelled, but Carnlo was upon her.

Matthias had no idea what was happening. Mattimeo, his own son, was wildly attacking him. Mattimeo had an evil fire in his eyes that Matthias had never seen before, and it was terrible. Matthias never attacked back at his son, he only defended, but that was getting harder.

Never had Matthias been as confused. He had absolutely no idea why his son was attacking him. He knew that lately he and Mattimeo had not been on the best of terms, but that was no reason to randomly attack someone. This was especially strange for Mattimeo, who usually seemed to be a very level-headed creature.

Matthias moaned. He wished he had help from somebeast else, but every other Redwaller was focused on their own adversary, and nobeast even noticed father and son dueling.

After a particularly stunning blow, Matthias tried talking. "Mattimeo! What are you doing? What are you doing?"

But Mattimeo did not answer. Matthias saw a spark in his eyes that he knew all too well—he had passed the bloodwrath down to his son. There was no stopping Mattimeo.

Matthias's bones ached and he grew tired once again. He hated being old, he truly did. He wished that, right then and there, he could have turned back time seasons and seasons, for Mattimeo was much younger than he, and much more powerful.

Matthias could not stop thinking about Bhriina in the back of his head. Where was she? What was she doing? Surely she was coming for him!

And then he saw her. She wore a long, billowing black cape that she somehow avoided tripping over, and it flowed in the wind behind her. She held a long curved dagger of sorts, maybe more of a dirk, at her side, only lifting it up when a Redwaller came near. Every valiant beast who went anywhere near her was killed. She even knocked aside Sparra warriors that dove from the sky as if they were mere snowflakes.

In tow of Bhriina was a mouse that Matthias knew could only be Covodre, and he was not as elaborately dressed as her, wearing only simple, dank clothing, but wielding a powerful-looking sword that slew everybeast that went near him.

Also following Bhriina was a stoat, who was Wastrop, Chief Lieutenant of the Coarc, and he wore clean-cut, efficient looking garb that showed his importance, and his curved sword was similar to Bhriina's, but shorter, and he also wielded a knife in the other paw. He now adorned a purple silken hood that made him look quite ominous in battle, and he was obviously a skilled fighter, and nobeast could come near him either.

All three of the Coarc leaders were headed farther into the Abbey, in the direction of Matthias and Mattimeo, although that was simply a wish of fate, because they had not yet spotted the mouse warriors.

For one brief second, Bhriina and Matthias stared straight into each other's eyes. They each stood like that, as if nothing else in the world was happening, and looked upon each other, for they know something. They knew that they were the ultimate adversaries, and they had not yet begun to fight.

Instantaneously, Matthias took off running, and in the same second, Bhriina dashed off after him. Mattimeo trailed after his father, angrily swinging his blade, and Wastrop and Covodre were right behind Bhriina.

Matthias looked desperately around before choosing a hallway to go into. A more close-quarters fight would be easier for him; he had trained himself right in these passages.

The sight in the hallways was horrifying. Blood dripped on the steps and the walls, all around, and beasts were slaughtered here and there. The fight was moving indoors.

Matthias ducked under a shrew dueling a rat only to bump into a weasel. The weasel snarled and pulled two knives. It was about to lunge at Matthias when an arrow went through its head. Matthias looked right to see the peaceable Brother Sedge holding a bow. Sedge nodded gravely to Matthias and he continued running up the stairs.

When Matthias reached the top of the stairs, he looked down to see two things: Mattimeo, followed by Bhriina, followed by Covodre, followed by Wastrop, running up, and Brother Sedge lying dead on the floor with a giant gash in his back.

Matthias held back the urge to cry out and give in right there, and kept running. There was nothing that riled him more than to see innocent beasts killed for no reason.

Matthias looked left and right for a room to go into, and after a moment, he jumped into the Redwall kitchens by impulse, thinking there would be nobeast inside.

He was wrong. Several rats were looting the pantries, and Brother Dan was ducked beneath a table. He reached for a knife on the ground and hurled it at one of the rats, who fell with the silver blade implanted in his brain.

Matthias leapt to Dan's aid, and leapt about, swinging his great sword and killing every rat in the room. He walked over to Dan and helped him up, and they ran, as Matthias could hear that he had not thrown off his pursuers.

Matthias and Dan ran through the Abbey, killing vermin and helping friends where they could, always running, because their pursuers were never far off. Eventually, the two reached the library, and silently they decided to make a stand. Matthias had never been particularly close to Dan, nor had Dan to he, but in this moment, none of that mattered. They were in it together.

Mattimeo reached the room first, and his bloodwrath seemed to have worsened, because he was now slashing at inanimate objects like they were his mortal enemies. Pages ripped from books, and as he ran along the walls of the library, pages started to flutter about in the air, and ripped book covers and scrolls lined the ground. He seemed to have forgotten Matthias for the moment, which was a good thing.

Bhriina halted her two comrades and walked slowly and menacingly into the library when she reached it. She slowly pulled her dagger, which had apparently been sheathed earlier, and ran her finger along the blade slowly, letting small drops of blood drip onto its metal.

Covodre and Wastrop drew their weapons. Covodre spoke to the stoat. "Here we go, Lieutenant Wastrop. Ready for this? We're gonna take out one of the M's!"

Matthias heard every word, and looked at his adversaries, nonplussed. "One? But he is in this room as well…" he said, pointing his sword at Mattimeo, but trailing off, because it hit him. The other M was Martin.

Bhriina cackled. "The child has probably already been killed by your little old Abbot!"

Matthias gaped, and it all started to fall together in his mind. The Abbot had been plotting the entire time. He had befriended Martin just so he could take him away and kill him. He had told Mattimeo false things to make him go crazy. It all made sense.

His thoughts were put off when the Abbey started to shake.

Matthias looked out the window of the library in horror. The catapults were being put to use. He had forgotten completely about them. Huge boulders smashed into the front wall of the Abbey, and it all but crumbled. Red sandstone bricks fell and crushed creatures alive, and all of the Redwallers on the front battlement were either buried alive or fell to the vermin whose ranks seemed endless, for more still came.

BOOM! The room shook again, and books fell out of their cases, spilling onto the floor, and more pages fluttered through the library.

The entire southwest tower fell to the ground. To make matters worse, the vermin began hurling torches and the forest surrounding Redwall began to burn. It started out slow, and grew more intense and larger as time passed. Matthias was in shock—his home, Redwall, was crumbling beneath him, and Mossflower Woods was on fire.

Bhriina began walking toward Matthias, slowly, and Covodre and Wastrop walked behind her, knocking over bookshelves. Many of pieces of literature and history were destroyed as they tore apart the room behind her.

Bhriina issued an evil laugh. "Fight me, Warrior. Let's see what you've got!"

Matthias silently motioned to Brother Dan to stay back, and he walked up to Bhriina. They walked around in circles, always watching each other, until she made the first move.

With the Sword of Martin, Matthias blocked her strikes, although his elderliness was once more getting the best of him. He blocked, parried, struck, swung, and slashed, but she would not weaken. It was as if she was invincible.

Bhriina kicked Matthias hard in the chest, and blood dripped from his lips as well as a small wound in his side. She taunted him as he lay there, coughing. "Is that all, Warrior? Aren't you supposed to be strong?"

At this moment, something deep within Mattimeo's brain told him to join in, and that he did, although he had no loyalty to any side. Covodre, Wastrop, and Dan entered, and it was a three sided conflict: Redwall, the Coarc, and the crazed mind that Abbot Carnlo had seemingly injected into Mattimeo.

Brother Dan was a better fighter than anyone in the room would have expected, and he used a sword he had picked up from a fallen otter along their way to the library to knock Wastrop's weapons free of his paws. Wastrop was dumbfounded, and tackled the mouse. Brother Dan did not give up, and he forced Wastrop to get back on his footpaws. The mouse and the stoat hacked back and forth at each other until Mattimeo whizzed by, almost knocking Wastrop off his feet, inadvertently giving Dan the chance to stab Wastrop through the heart.

Covodre looked up from fighting Mattimeo to see Wastrop dead on the floor, lying amongst a bloody pile of papers, which was somehow fitting, because he was one of the only creatures in the horde who could fluently read and write.

Covodre leapt on Dan at once, and they dueled back and forth. But Dan was not a trained warrior, and he was no match for Covodre. The bigger mouse knocked Dan's sword from him and took Dan up in his grasp, grabbing at his throat.

Dan struggled to get away, and fell out of Covodre's reach when another boulder hit the Abbey. While the severely injured Dan tried to crawl away, Covodre kicked him, and threw himself upon him.

Covodre grabbed wildly at Dan, and while the poor Redwaller struggled, Covodre choked him to the death, and the evil mouse rose from the body with bloodstained paws.

Mattimeo turned crazily from disheveling a row of potted plants and attacked Covodre. Meanwhile, Matthias and Bhriina expertly dueled among all the clangour of war.

BOOM! The Abbey rocked once again, and Bhriina lost her footing. Matthias lunged for the kill, but she blocked his sword and got up again. As the structure shifted around them, and books fell off of their cases whilst dust and cobwebs from the ceiling drifted down, they fought viciously. Bhriina was a better fighter than any that Matthias had ever dueled, and he was becoming concerned for his life.

He dismissed the thoughts immediately. He was ready to die for Redwall. He would do anything for these creatures, even if it meant giving himself up for their safety.

Matthias doubled over as Bhriina once again kicked him, and fell backwards as she hit him again. "You're weak, old fool! Whoever said you are a warrior is an even bigger fool!" she taunted once more.

Matthias's blood boiled. He looked up at Bhriina with immense hatred in his eyes. Bhriina took on a mock fright. "Oh, no, the warrior's angry? Maybe we should all calm down and have a spot of tea!" She cackled at her own whim.

While she was laughing, and not paying attention to Matthias, he rose up and hit hard with his sword, but she blocked it, and kept laughing.

Something in Mattimeo turned down his bloodwrath, and he began to become aware of his surroundings. He felt very weary, and had no idea where he had been or how he gotten to the library, but he saw a stoat and Brother Dan dead, and knew the battle was in full-swing as the room shook from another boulder launch.

He turned to see Covodre rushing at him, and quickly parried his swings. He also saw his father dueling Bhriina, but he could not help. He was too busy with his own fight.

Bhriina and Matthias fought like madbeasts, but neither could slay the other. They were nearly equal in power, despite Matthias's age.

Matthias kicked Bhriina, and she landed on the floor hard. He was about to go in for the kill again when a boulder hit Redwall, not far from the library.

Matthias stepped back, wobbling and unbalanced, and Bhriina used the chance. She launched herself up and ran at Matthias, who was still trying to regain his footing, and ran her dagger's blade right through him.

With the blade still in Matthias, Bhriina whispered to him. "One down. One to go." And she pulled it from him.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Mattimeo screamed, but Bhriina and Covodre were already long gone, and running back down the corridors.

Matthias looked down, without becoming alarmed at all, just a bit confused, and saw a giant bleeding hole in his midsection. Without a word, he fell backwards.

"NOOO!" Mattimeo screamed again, and ran to his father. He threw aside his sword and took his father's head in both paws.

"Father? Father? Oh, father!" he wept, holding Matthias close. Matthias whispered to his son with all of his last energy.

"Mattimeo…they…they have…"

"What, father? What do they have?" Mattimeo asked.

"They have…they have…"

"What do they have?"

"Martin."

That one word, that single six-letter word, was the last thing that Matthias the Warrior ever said to his son.

Mattimeo ran through the Abbey, towards the front gate, slaying any straggling vermin he could find out of pure hatred and sadness, and he cried as he ran. Tears flew back in the wind behind him as he shot like an arrow through the hallways of Redwall.

The scenes before him were tragic. Redwallers and vermin alike lay dead and wounded everywhere, and the Abbey was rubble. Luckily, around a third of the structure still stood (including the library where he had just been), but much was destroyed. Weapons lay askew everywhere, dead bodies flopped here and there, and the wounded tried to make it to the Great Hall as fast as they could.

When Mattimeo reached the Abbey grounds, he began to sob loudly. The once-green grass was stained with patches of red, and the dead were uncountable. Red sandstone bricks were lying everywhere as well.

The vermin horde was depleted for sure, but they still numbered over a hundred, and they were fleeing to the west. Mattimeo caught a glimpse of Abbot Carnlo amongst them, holding Martin close with a knife.

Mattimeo screamed with all his might, and every ounce of his anger seemed to offer itself to this one yell. The warrior fell to his knees, sobbing madly, as Mossflower Woods burned around him in fiery plumes of orange.


	10. Chapter 10

The morning following the attack was a solemn one for the creatures of Redwall. The day was to be dedicated to those who fell in the battle, and there were very many good beings who perished to hold off Bhriina's horde.

Mattimeo sat on the same spot where he had yelled the previous night, with Tess, staring off into space. He hadn't spoken since the previous night. Tess was doing what she could. "Do you want to talk about it, dear?"

No response came from the Warrior.

Tess pursed her lips and decided to let him be alone. She walked into the Great Hall, where the Redwallers were all gathering. The wounded were being treated there, because the infirmary had been destroyed by the catapults.

The number of fighters that survived was actually surprising, but all of them were wounded. Basil had bandages on both of his legs and an ear, and Cheek had a palpitating gash in his side that was being treated by Sister May.

Orlando was lying down, being treated by another mouse. He had several bleeding cuts on his body, but he would live. He was in a similar state to Mattimeo's, because apparently Constance had fallen in the battle. This was a kick in the heart for everybeast at Redwall, because Constance had always been a leader, a creature to look up to, and a general source of inspiration.

Auma sat next to Orlando, trying to comfort him. She was only mildly injured, with one arm in a splint. Her efforts to cheer her father did nothing. It seemed as if Orlando would be in a perpetual state of gloom.

Jess and Sam Squirrel were relatively unscathed other than a few cuts to the legs and arms. The Foremole had a gash on his head that was being treated. Log-a-Log Flugg was somehow nearly unscathed, but the same could not be said of his soldiers. The Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower had lost nearly one-third of their fighters in the battle, and they were all taking it hard.

"Where is Matthias?" somebeast called out.

Tears fell from the eyes of Tess as everybeast went silent and looked around for their favourite mouse.

"He…he fell," Tess whispered.

Nobeast could believe it. Most were in plain shock, others in tears, and others, like Basil, were angrier at the vermin than ever before.

"We should finish the rest o' them vermin off, wot wot!" Basil yelled roughly, before a mouse healer got him to lie back down.

"No!" Auma said. "That will only kill off more of us!"

Basil was struggling against his nurse again. "Bally well worth it if we can rid the world o' those scoundrels!"

"We cannot do anything now, hare! We need time to recover and regain our strength! And besides, the Long Patrol may still be on the way!" Auma shouted.

Basil continued to argue. "Long Patrol, my ears! They care for no one other than themselves! They wait and they wait up in their pitiful little mountain fort and wait for the badger that will never come!"

Auma was puzzled. "Were you not once a warrior of the Long Patrol?"

Basil huffed. "I was, but I left that lot! Bunch o' ninnies, wot wot!"

The old hare rolled back over and let the nurse tend to his wounds, while Cheek talked to him encouragingly.

The Foremole's team and the Guosim shrews set to work digging graves outside the Abbey, and many were needed. The otters (now led by Riverjack) headed down to the quarry to gather stones from the outside of it to be used as headstones.

Families of woodlanders crowded around the graves, crying gently to their fallen comrades. It appeared as if a few vermin had gotten into the Great Hall, because there were even a few Dibbuns among the dead.

Auma was permitted to carry Constance to her grave. Everybeast went silent as their

Badgermother was put to rest. Constance had served as the voice of reason and the central mind of Redwall for uncountable seasons, and it seemed as if she was irreplaceable. Auma was determined to do just that. Constance had been teaching her to fill the role ever since she and her father had settled at Redwall.

Orlando stood at the grave of Constance, staring off into the distance as they lowered the dirt back into the hole. As if on cue, a drizzly rain came down from the grey sky. It completed the sad mood that hung over Redwall like fog.

Others had fallen that brought much sadness. Skipper Rovrew was lowered into his grave by Riverjack, who was sobbing and crying very informally. He couldn't believe that his leader's last command was to make him the new Skipper.

There were others, as well. The body of Brother Sedge was found in a corridor, and those of Sister Agnes and Loamdog were found out on the grounds.

Soon, the hunt was on to find the body of Matthias the Warrior. Basil, Jess, and Ambrose were the search team, and they all had some tracking skills. They were able to follow his path fairly well. They really picked up the trail once they got to the where the kitchens once stood—they could tell he had come through.

"He came right through here, wot wot!" Basil exclaimed. They followed his pawprints, which were now visible on the dusty stone chunks on the ground. The three friends walked right past where he had killed the looting rats, to where he had saved Brother Dan, and out. They came to parts throughout the Abbey where the structure was still intact, and parts where it was not, which is what threw them off. Eventually, though, they were able to trace his steps to the library.

Jess opened the door of the library slowly. It was a total mess inside—bookcases were knocked over, books were destroyed everywhere, and blood was aplenty. First they found the body of a stoat. None of them knew who it was, and moved on. For now, vermin bodies were to be left, and they would be tossed into a pit and burned later.

Next, they found Brother Dan. Jess sobbed a tiny sob; it seemed to escape from her mouth without her intention. He looked as if he had fallen bravely. Ambrose picked up Brother Dan's limp form.

And then Basil found him.

Matthias the Warrior's body had many cuts and gashes on it, but the worst was the giant wound that went all the way through his midsection.

Jess began to cry. She went down to the floor, and held Matthias's head. "Why does this have to happen, Basil? What's wrong with our world?"

Basil patted her reassuringly. Normally, he would have been very against mourning for the dead. He was more the kind of creature that moved on and honoured them respectfully. But this was surely an occasion to cry.

"It's alright, Jess. He died bravely," Basil said.

"No," she said between sobs, "It's not alright! He didn't have to die!"

Basil sighed. "I think he was ready, Jess. Mattimeo is our Warrior now."

Ambrose came over and stared down at Matthias. "Never dreamed that anybeast could slay the great Matthias. Guess I was wrong."

Jess brushed away tears and stood up. "We have to kill every one of those fiends, Basil. Every last one. No matter the circumstances, they cannot run free."

"I have a feeling they won't be doing much running. They are a force bred for a single purpose: to end Redwall. They'll be back."

Basil stood up as well. "That's why we're gonna attack them first! Who cares what Auma says? She hasn't been here as long as any of us! She doesn't have the right to lead us!"

Ambrose tried to calm him. "Basil, she is the Badgermother now, and we have no Abbot. She must lead Redwall to our end."

"I bally well won't stand for it, Spike! If it's not Orlando, and it's not Mattimeo, then it's going to be me, wot! I should lead Redwall! I'll attack as soon as possible; I won't stay here and wait for them to strike again! Who's with me?" Basil said, putting his paw out.

Ambrose and Jess looked to each other, and placed their paws upon Basil's.

Everybeast was solemn or crying as Basil, Jess, and Ambrose brought Matthias's body back from the library. A hole had been dug for him. It was no more special than the others, for Matthias had always said that if he were to fall one day, he wouldn't want any more glamour than his fellow defender. A giant M was scrawled in the rock that served as his headstone.

Mattimeo stood at the grave, blank-faced as they lowered his father into the hole. Suddenly, Gaffer cried out something that no one else had thought of. "Where's Cornflower?"

And so the search began. Nearly the entire standing Abbey had been scoured before Tim Churchmouse and Jube Stump thought to look in the Abbot's private chamber, at the top of a central tower in Redwall. This brought up another unanswered question: where was the Abbot? Mattimeo had been the only one to see Carnlo scurry off amongst the vermin with Martin.

The Abbot's desk was messy. Papers and scrolls and quills were scattered across its wooden surface, and the drawers were all open. The one thing that quite out of place was a knife, sitting on a book in the middle of the table.

Tim turned to see the Abbot's wardrobe. He knew that she would not be in there, but unlocked and threw open the doors anyway.

Out she tumbled—Cornflower, poor old Cornflower, dusty from the old wardrobe and stiff from the confined space. It was truly a wonder she had survived. Had Tim not found her then, she surely would have run out of oxygen and died.

When Cornflower was recovered enough to breathe normally, Tim questioned her. "Cornflower! However did you get into the wardrobe?"

"The Abbot!" she croaked, slowly regaining her voice.

"The Abbot did this?" Tim asked.

Cornflower nodded. "Yes!"

Tim was about to ask her where the Abbot was when she continued to speak. "He took my little Martin and locked me in the closet!"

Tim had trouble wrapping this around his head, but Jube was on it like a hare on a dinner feast. "It all makes sense! The Abbot was on their side all along!"

Tim was still nonplussed. "Explain."

"He told us not to go rescue my father, because he wanted them to kill him! He has done so many things that give it away, that are so obvious, and we were all dull enough not to notice! Aaaargh!" Jube yelled. "My father could be alive if it wasn't for that stinkin' Abbot!"

Then something hit Tim. "He was a false Abbot! Did you ever notice how he just strolled in one day, and was Abbot within weeks?"

Jube nodded slowly.

"Well," Tim continued, "I saw Carnlo sneak off in the direction of Abbot Mordalfus on the night he died! Mordalfus did not die of old age! He was murdered!"

Jube gasped. "He must have been planted in as Abbot by the vermin that long ago! This has been a work in motion for far longer than we thought!"

They all stood for a second before Cornflower spoke.

"Where is my Matthias?"

The creatures of Redwall stood in lines on either side of a large hole that had been dug. Jube and Tim stepped back and allowed Cornflower to pass. She walked slowly at first, on the tips of her footpaws, but soon she began to run. Everybeast was silent.

She threw herself upon the grave, sobbing. She looked down to see her husband lying in the hole. His eyes were closed, and he held his sword in the traditional burial manner. Despite the many bloodstained wounds on his body, he looked completely at peace.

"How did he fall?" Cornflower cried.

She hadn't even noticed Mattimeo standing near the grave. He was quiet, and he stared off into space blankly. Cornflower pleaded to him as Tess put a paw on her back reassuringly.

"How?" she wailed desperately, ragged sobs escaping from her mouth.

Without looking up whatsoever, Mattimeo answered. "Bhriina."

Tears dripped onto Matthias's body as Cornflower stroked the fur on his head gently. She had never been this sad, not with death of her own parents Mr. and Mrs. Fieldmouse, not with any other death she had ever experienced. Cornflower had always pictured herself and Matthias in extreme old age, dying together simply of their elderliness, happily and at peace. The thought of her husband falling in combat to another mouse was appalling. She thought that he should've been able to take her. He should have won. But she dismissed these thoughts. She knew it was wrong. But her heart and head were torn.

"Where's Martin?" Cornflower asked, to nobeast in particular.

It was again Mattimeo who supplied the answer. He spoke in a clear, dark, distant tone once more; as if he were focused upon something other than the situation. "They took him."

That did it for her. Cornflower's knees buckled and she burst out into a fit of crying. Many others in the crowd wept, but some only looked on in honour of the Warrior or in hatred for why it had happened.

Basil made his move at this point. "Let's go catch us the vermin who did this, wot! They can't have gotten far!"

Jube Stump shouted out as well. "Yes, let's take back Martin!"

Several other mourners chimed in, and it grew to a roar of voices, chanting to take on the vermin once more. They all went silent when Auma roared over them. "SILENCE! ENOUGH! WE CANNOT!"

Everybeast stared as she continued. "We must rest! We must recover!"

Jess objected. "And what happens while we wait, Auma? They get farther and farther away from us. They are running. Do you not think that they will reinforce and recover just as we are? Do you not think that they will come back to attack us once more? Let's catch them unawares, catch them while they're on the run! An ambush!"

Before cheers rang out, Auma stormed over to Jess and brought her up with both of her paws. She snarled at the squirrel. "Do you expect me to lead these creatures to their deaths?"

Basil swaggered up. "PUT HER DOWN, AUMA! And do you expect us to sit and have a cup of tea while the enemy is out there, rampaging, reinforcing, and killing woodlanders?"

Auma spat in disgust and walked into the Abbey.

It was beginning. Redwall was splitting.


	11. Chapter 11

The catapults were left behind early on, for they were a pain to move, and no degree of speed could be achieved while pushing them. It turned out; however, that speed was not a necessity, because the Redwallers gave neither chase nor any other form of pursuit. Thus, it was safe to travel by road, so as many vermin as could fit on the path at once jogged upon it.

Those woodlanders whom had chosen to stay in their homes and not take refuge in Redwall were quite unlucky. Torches were thrown askance from the horde, causing the trees to burn. Families ran through the forest in terror as the flames spread.

Carnlo ran with Bhriina and Covodre at the head of the horde. At some point, Martin was knocked unconscious, which only made it easier for his captor, as the young mouse had struggled very much when they first took off. While he was not as built as Covodre, Carnlo had more skill in the area of running and combat than his appearance suggested. Carnlo gave a signal to talk, and along with Bhriina and Covodre he stepped to the side of the road. "So, where are we going now? Where will we stay?"

"We shall follow the River Moss until Mossflower is behind us. The horde will regain its strength in the plain near the sea known as the Flatlands. We might be able to receive reinforcements there. Many rats take residence in the Flatlands. The Redwallers will never expect us to be there, it hides in the shadow of Salamandastron just perfectly!" Covodre said, rather loud so that his voice could be heard over the running of the vermin.

Carnlo was still concerned. "In the shadow of the mountain? Will Salamandastron not move to attack us?"

"The hares of Salamandastron are vain and selfish, although their fighting skills do present a need for caution. I think they will prefer to stay in their mountain than fight us," Bhriina answered.

"I have heard stories of their obsessive need to fight! Will they not want a break from their teatime in the fortress to challenge us?" Carnlo asked.

Covodre reentered the conversation. "This rings true of the days of old, but I believe that in these days they have changed. They are more defensive than offensive now."

Carnlo seemed to be filled with questions. "Do you not think Redwall will have asked Salamandastron to aid them? I know this for a fact, I was there!"

"Several hordebeasts intercepted one attempt to reach the mountain. Whether there has been another, I know not," Bhriina said.

Covodre laughed bleakly. "Even if, would they come?"

At that moment, Covodre was answered.

The Long Patrol was on their way to Redwall to defend it, not knowing that they had already missed the action, when they stumbled into the retreating Coarc vermin at the edge of Mossflower Wood.

A hare with a much decorated uniform that was in the lead (who was in fact General Lorsca) spotted the vermin and shouted to his forces. "VERMIN!"

The hares worked as if they were one living mass, and all were instantly armed per their leader's command. Only an owl and a heron whom flew overhead were unarmed, but they looked just as ready to tear apart a vermin's entrails as the hares.

Vermin were already beginning to pull out their various assortment of weapons, although most did not look eager for another fight. The horde was exhausted, and Bhriina knew it. While she cared little for the horde's welfare, she could not afford to lose them now. Compiling a force this large took time, and it would be silly to waste them away now at the paws of these hares. She also knew that while the hares were outnumbered five to one, they were more skilled than most of her scatterbrained labourers.

Covodre must have been thinking the same thing, because when she nodded silently to him, he got the message. He shouted out to the horde. "STAND DOWN AND RUN!"

Some of the vermin had a hard time computing this due to their dimwitted desire to slay the innocent, but most seemed to comprehend their leader's thinking, and started flooding around the Long Patrol. The hares reached out with spears and caught several vermin with their blades, but it did not dent the vermin's lines. The Warden of Marshwood Hill clawed and ate several amphibians, but it did not decrease the number of scoundrels one bit. The hares had been ready for a full-scale fight (although Bhriina noticed that they seemed worn down, and not just from running), but all they received was a bypass. The Coarc horde was on its way to the Flatlands in no time, and only lost twenty or so soldiers.

Through his exasperated huffing and puffing, Carnlo spoke to Bhriina and Covodre once more. "That was easy enough!"

He only received a quick glare from Bhriina. "Just make sure the child doesn't wake up!"

Carnlo shut up and they continued running along the voluminously winding path that ran along the banks of the River Moss.

They reached the Flatlands about an hour later. Hopes of reinforcement plummeted as the horde came upon the shackles that must have been the Flatland rat's encampment. The gruesome bodies of those rats were everywhere: flopped over fences, amongst torn piles of cloth from their lean-tos, and in several small dry-grass fires that had erupted in the small, circular camp.

Bhriina picked up a staff from a fallen rat and snapped it across her knee in anger. "Curse those bloody hares!" she said, as she threw down the splinters. "_That's_ why they all looked so tired when they ran into us!"

She turned to the horde. "Salvage what you can."

Some of the smarter and more resourceful of the horde actually pillaged some valuable things that were needed, but for most, this was simply an excuse to tear apart the remains of a camp. They did not care that had these creatures been alive, they would most likely have joined the Coarc, for they did not care even for their fellow hordebeasts. There was no trust within this army, and almost every individual would have killed one of their fellows if it meant more food on the table or an extra round of ale.

Bhriina decided that they would stay in the Flatlands for the night, but also decided that without the local knowledge of the rat Flatlanders, they were far too close to Redwall to set up camp there. After a quick tent was set up, she called her lieutenants there to discuss where they should head to.

Once they were all gathered in the tent, Bhriina realized that only six of the lieutenants remained, and they were not the brightest. Wastrop and Stonegor had both apparently perished, and this was concerning because they were the leading lieutenants. The remaining were Blackclaw the catapult advisor, Dewsnout the cook, Hookhound the pirate, Crookneck, Stukkleg the spy, and Reginlim Greeneyes the wildcat.

She considered the lineup for a while, and settled upon Reginlim and Stukkleg to replace Wastrop and Stonegor as fourth and fifth in command (Bhriina, Covodre, and now Carnlo were the "leaders"). While she despised Reginlim, he was more ambitious and knowledgeable than the others, and knew more about leading troops. She also chose Stukkleg because he was very level-headed and thought things through before acting upon them, unlike most of the hordebeasts.

"Far too close to Redwall are we, my lieutenants. Where shall we go now?" Bhriina said.

Hookhound spoke first. "There was a pine grove not so far from here that could conceal us well, Milady."

Stukkleg intercepted the idea. "That place is closer to Redwall than we are now, you imbecile! And besides, it is forested. This is the terrain that Redwallers move well in. Why do we not go northwest, to the Badlands? No puny woodlander would manage in the desert!"

Covodre nodded. "The Badlands would be fine. Or we could head even farther north, to the caves along the seashore. Redwall would not dare go there."

"Redwall is more daring than you would think, Covodre. They have displayed that already. And do not forget that we have the child. I am sure from the time I spent that they would stop at nothing to save one of their young, even if it meant giving themselves up," Carnlo said.

"We will not go to the Badlands," Bhriina decided. "Despite the fact that I care little for the horde's morale, it would drop tremendously if we were to force them into a desert. And the caves are dangerous. There are those there that do side with woodlanders. We cannot go north along the coast. Not only are there tribes of mice and hedgehogs there, a group of bats reside underground in the caves that have assisted Redwall in the past. We would receive no welcome in the north, whatsoever."

Carnlo was worried. "To where shall we go, then?"

Crookneck put out his idea. "Let's just attack again and kill the rest o' them off!"

Hookhound seemed to be on board with this. "Why not?"

Bhriina silenced their ideas. "No! We must wait to attack again! If all goes as planned, they will come to us!"

Reginlim purred. "I have a notion. Salamandastron!"

Stukkleg guffawed. "The mountain fortress?"

"Why not? You saw those hares! If they're not at Salamandastron, who is? No one! It's either unprotected or lightly protected, and I'm sure we could take them if any guards were there! It would be perfect! We would be protected, and we could easily defeat the Redwallers if they tried to attack the mountain! We'd have the high ground!" Reginlim said with a twinkle in his eye. "It's flawless!"

Stukkleg coughed. "Hah! You are crazy, Greeneyes!"

"No, Stukkleg, he is on to something! I like a bold strategy!" Blackclaw said.

"I'm for Salamandastron!" said Dewsnout. "I've heard wonderful tales of the kitchens there! No longer would we suffer on uncivilized wilderness eatery!"

All eyes turned to Bhriina, for she was the source of the final decision.

"We make now for the mountain."

General Lorsca and the Long Patrol were still dumbfounded from the suddenness of the vermin's passing. They had expected to arrive at a Redwall that was under siege, but they were much too late for a fight. This angered many of the soldiers, including Rutep. "What'll we do now, wot wot? I was lookin' for a right fight, not a fly-by!"

Relab agreed. "Perhaps we should just head back to Salamandastron."

Lorsca had directed the army over to a clearing on the side of the road, and there the leaders as well as their avian guests gathered and thought. A young, ambitious brigadier named Aeruut was very vocal for returning to the mountain, while Onyep the lance corporal was a staunch defender of continuing on to Redwall.

"The vermin were heading in the opposite direction of Redwall, so obviously they have already attacked it! We missed the fight, wot wot!" Aeruut said.

Lorsca nodded. "This is true. Why should we continue on if they no longer need our help? We should return to the mountain and defend it! Just think, they could be headed to Salamandastron this very minute! We could be their next target!"

This gained much applause, but Onyep and his allies were in a state of expostulation. "What proof have we that was the entirety of the vermin's horde? That very may well have been one small squad! From what our friends here have said, the army was massive!"

Rutep seemed to be a mediator. "We should make sure our own home is safe from harm. Half of the army should head back and half should go forward."

Aeruut would not hear Rutep's reasoning, however. He moved to personally attack Onyep. "Are you not more concerned for the safety of our own home than some frivolous church filled with weak mice?"

"Why must you be so selfish, Aeruut? Do you not think about the safety of others? The creatures of Redwall are our friends and allies!" Onyep countered.

"Many a season it has been since we have aided those pathetic monks. They were proud once, hundreds of seasons ago, and were honourable, but they have turned to pacifism!" Aeruut said smugly, his followers gathering close.

Onyep was not concerned by Aeruut's ranting. "And pacifism is bad, then?"

Aeruut looked Onyep up and down in disgust. "You bring scorn to the Long Patrol."

At this point, Sir Harry decided it was time to step into the argument. He had had enough of the overly-proud Aeruut.

"Why must we fight?

My friend and I will simply take flight

We will return here

If at Redwall you must appear."

Everybeast seemed to think that Sir Harry's suggestion was logical, even Aeruut, despite much grumbling that he wanted to return to Salamandastron anyhow. Lorsca said a final goodbye to the birds and they departed for Redwall.

The sky was grey and clouded over, casting a dreary mood. The normally brightly green coloured grass was dark and drab, and flowers wilted. The usual cheerful tintinnabulation of the Matthias and Methuselah Bells was absent, and not a single creature frolicked in the meadows surrounding Redwall. Mossflower was almost completely silent other than a few lingering fires. To put it shortly, the usual euphony of the region was gone.

Rubble still littered the Abbey grounds, and some bodies were still flopped here and there. It took time to gather them all, and the Redwallers were still enacting the gruesome work of identifying mangled bodies. Even the toughest and hardest of warriors shed tears in this time, but some, like Basil and Jess, knew that it was not right to grieve for long while a vermin horde was about, running amuck and presumably destroying at will. However, Auma would not have their arguments, and she was ruling Redwall all by herself. Most went along with this rule, but there were those who grew to resent it.

The Foremole had taken charge of efforts to clean up on the Abbey grounds. Only cleaning up and removal of debris was enacted, however, because efforts to rebuild Redwall were not even yet in consideration. It was, after all, only the second day following the battle.

Basil, Jess, and Ambrose sat alone together in a small cave-like enclosure formed by several fallen beams that had not yet been reached by the cleanup team. Basil was already against Auma's takeover of Redwall.

"She's got no bally right to do this! We should do what we please! We should be fighting those vermin! They killed Matthias!" Basil said, and Jess nodded.

Ambrose shook his head. "Basil, it's not that bad! It's not as if she's out there ruling like some vermin queen and whipping her lowly subjects! She wants what is best for Redwall, Basil. She just believes that you're…reckless."

"I think we need some recklessness right about now, wot wot! Where have the old days gone? Matthias and Constance would be out there kicking those vermin in the behind, but no! We must stay here, we must recuperate!" Basil said, mocking Auma's voice.

Ambrose sighed. "Basil, we should just let things go and see how it all happens. If you don't get your way in a week, we'll petition to Auma."

Basil was obviously getting flustered, and although Jess placed upon him a calming paw, he lashed out. Basil stared Ambrose down and whispered very close to the portly hedgehog's face. "A week? Do you really expect me to wait that long? They have Martin! They have Matthias's grandson, Spike! Who knows what they are doing to him right now?"

Ambrose had sympathy for Basil, and he wished very similarly for Martin to be safe, but he had had enough of the overzealous hare. Ambrose got up and walked out of their meeting place. He stared up into the dull sky, and, as if on cue, it began to rain.

Basil's head poked through the front of the structure. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Without looking back, Ambrose spoke. "Redwall's." And with that, he walked away.

Basil sat back down, huffing. "You can't trust that pig as far as you can throw him!"

Jess sighed. "Basil, you really should calm down. He wants the same things to happen as you do. It's alright if you're angry, but you don't need to go yelling at everyone within distance."

She had never seen the normally-jovial hare this sad. She thought she actually saw a tear escape his eye as he wailed. "Oh, Jess, I just miss Matthias!"

Jess once again placed a comforting paw on her friend's back. "We all do, Basil. It's okay to grieve. He was a good creature. He won't be going anywhere bad in the afterlife."

Through sobs and much flopping of his large ears, Basil responded. "I just can't deal with the fact that…that he's gone forever! I never thought that…that he could fall in combat!"

At this moment, Sam walked in. He was astoundingly different in appearance than he had been a few seasons earlier. He was as tall if not taller than his aging mother. His face was that of a handsome warrior, and it was further proved by the broadsword strapped to his side. His muscles had grown, and he was the subject of many young female squirrels' dreams. Jess was proud of the person he had become.

"Auma has issued a rebuilding of the Abbey," Sam said.

Both Jess and Basil looked up in horror. Jess was the first to speak. "How could she do that? We should be tending to the wounded quickly and then moving to attack the vermin, not rebuilding our home! That can wait! There are lives at stake! Martin is in peril!"

Basil muttered. "I knew there was something up-tight about her all along. Where is her father in all of this? And where is Mattimeo?"

"Orlando is on his sickbed still yet. As for Mattimeo, no one knows. He has disappeared."

Mattimeo ran blindly through Mossflower, faster than he had ever gone before, with bloodwrath seeping through his very being. He ran as if he were a machine; never stopping, never slowing, always sprinting. As for a destination, he had none. He knew only that he needed to save Martin. His son was his every and only thought as twigs and leaves crashed into his body. But no mere twig or leaf would halt Mattimeo the Warrior, and so he flew through the wood as if one of the Sparra were inhabiting his body.

He had escaped Redwall at the most unlikely hour—midday. Everybeast was so focused that no one saw or cared about one mouse sneaking off along the road. Since his father's death and the kidnapping of his son, Mattimeo had thought of nothing other than finding and rescuing the latter. Burning hatred for Bhriina coursed through his veins. It is unknown exactly how far Mattimeo ran in that time, but it was much farther and much longer than any other creature could have mustered.

He finally slowed to a stop near the banks of the River Moss and began to scan the surrounding forest for any creatures who could inform him of the horde's passing. Just before he was about to continue on, as there were no creatures nearby, he heard voices and ducked into a bush. Peering out of the bush, he saw a rat and a stoat armed with pikes walking towards him.

"Why do we gotta do this again, Brownwort?" the rat asked.

The stoat sighed. He appeared to have been dealing with the rat for a while. From what Mattimeo had gathered over the years, stoats possessed more intelligence than the general hordebeast, and rats were among the dullest. He could understand what the stoat was feeling. He never admitted it, but Redwall contained a few dull minds itself.

"We are doing this," the stoat answered, speaking slowly almost as if he wanted the rat to understand each syllable, "Because her highness Bhriina has asked us to."

"But it's just so lonely on patrol, Wortie! We should be runnin' with the rest of th' horde, not fallin' back and bringin' up th' rear!" the rat said.

The stoat sighed once more. "We do what we are told, Lardsnout. That is the way of a soldier. And don't call me Wortie!"

The two continued to stroll along the bank for several minutes. Mattimeo became very uncomfortable in his bush, but he did not want to risk capture.

"Seriously, why do we all get treated so badly? They hardly pay us!" Lardsnout whined. "They treat us like simpletons!"

"You are a simpleton," Brownwort commented. Mattimeo nearly giggled. After the energy he had burned off running was dissipated, he was returning to his old self and getting out of the grief that Matthias's death had brought upon him. Mattimeo decided to play a trick on the vermin so he could remove himself from the cramped shrubbery.

Luckily, the tree he was under was one of a small apple grove that ran along a strip of the river, and he carefully reached up and picked one. It was very red, and looked delicious. It would do the trick just right.

Mattimeo slowly raised the apple up and threw it in the vermin's direction. The fruit sailed through the air and hit the rat square in the nose. Once again, Mattimeo suppressed his mirth. The part of him that was evident in his childhood never truly left him.

The rat looked down in astonishment. "Look, Wortie! It's a magic apple! It just flew through the air, would ya' look at that!"

Brownwort sighed for the umpteenth time. "It's not magic, you dolt, someone threw it!" With that, the stoat walked even closer to Mattimeo's cover, searching for their attacker. When he was close enough, Mattimeo jumped from the bush and tackled the stoat. Before the stoat was even back on his feet (but after the rat had uttered a very feminine scream of terror), Mattimeo had tackled the rat as well, and was off back down the road. He could hear the stoat yelling. "Get up, you dunce! Make chase, make chase!"

Mattimeo ran as fast as he could, but his energy and stamina were depleted not only by hours of running but being cramped in a bush, and unfortunately the vermin were fairly nimble since they had just been standing, walking, and sitting for that time. They came closer and closer to Mattimeo, and they lashed out with their pikes. Whether they aimed to kill or snag him by the back of his chain mail, he knew not, but he wished not to find out. Mattimeo then jumped to the side, onto a smaller path that went off from the road in the direction of Salamandastron. This gained him only a minimal number of seconds, for the vermin caught on and followed.

As they raced along the smaller path, Lardsnout tripped over a low-hanging branch and fell behind, but Brownwort was dangerously close and ever nearing. Mattimeo searched frantically around for a means of escape from the situation, but found none, so he went with the most illogical thing that popped into his head: climb a tree. He quickly used some of his depleting energy to leap up into the high branches of the nearest tree. Brownwort did the same, and was still behind him, although Lardsnout was still scrambling at the trunk.

Mattimeo was making fairly good progress until he came to a large gap in between two branches. It looked like the gap was several times the length of his body, and it would be unlikely he would make it if he leapt, Brownwort was still gaining, so he had no choice but to jump. Mattimeo flung himself, reaching out with all of his energy to make it, but he fell just short, and he tumbled to the ground.

Just as he was about to stand up again, Brownwort jumped down from his tree, landing on Mattimeo's chest. A searing, stabbing pain hit Mattimeo's heart and lungs, and he coughed several times as Brownwort stood on him. On the fifth cough, a spatter of blood shot from his mouth and onto the ground. Mattimeo tried to speak, but he only made hoarse mouth movements. As if it could not get any worse, Brownwort then started to dig the claws on his footpaws into Mattimeo's flesh, which only added to the crucifying pain. He looked up and snarled at the stoat, but that only provoked him more.

When Brownwort finally retracted, Mattimeo took a deep breath and looked down at his chest. Several deep, bloody gashes were now present, as well as blood stained on his fur from coughing. He thought he was free, but not three seconds after Brownwort released his grip on Mattimeo, the rat Lardsnout came up from behind and shoved the weakened Mattimeo into a brown leather sack.


	12. Chapter 12

The scene before Sir Harry was the most tragic one he had ever experienced, and he cried openly in front of the Warden, something he most likely would have avoided in any other situation. He was watching from high above, in the sky, as Mossflower burned. As the two birds neared Redwall, more and more fires appeared, and the sky was filled with smoke and ash. Woodland families ran amuck, fleeing to safety. He saw stray vermin, who must have been bringing up the far rear of the horde, torturing even the children of the forest.

"How did this happen?" Sir Harry breathed.

"Terrible! There is no order! No laaaaw!" the Warden said.

When Redwall entered their sight, they each fell silent and looked in astonishment at the Abbey. Sir Harry never would have thought that the structure could fall so much. Only around a third of the building was still standing, and burning rubble was everywhere. Some bodies were still where they fell. It was a scene of total tragedy.

Sir Harry and the Warden flew down to the main gates of the Abbey. One of them was torn nearly in half and looked to be hastily hung back onto its hinges with a single nail. Sir Harry figured that a battering ram had been used. After a few minutes, a drab-looking mouse with a torn chain mail suit on noticed them and sheepishly cranked open the gates so they could be allowed in. Now, they could have simply flown in, but Sir Harry was, after all, a Sir, and it was quite unlike a Sir to just fly into a place without the common admittance of a land-crawler.

The Redwallers were more depressed than Sir Harry had ever seen them. Not a single creature was smiling, nor dancing, nor cheering or enacting any other sort of merriment that was the norm of the Abbey. Everybeast was frowning or solemn and all were focused. Few noticed Sir Harry or the Warden as they approached the Great Hall, and those who did would only look up for a second or two before returning to their work, whatever that be.

Normally, Sir Harry would have had to use his claws to get a grip on the doorknob of the Great Hall, but a doorknob was not present. In fact, no door was present at all; it lay in shards not three feet away. The owl looked around the large, open room for Matthias, but he was not there. Only the wounded were there, being treated to. Even though Sir Harry had arrived two days late to be in the battle, there were still those who were wounded so badly that they were still being nursed back to health. Matthias was not there, but Basil Stag Hare was, so Sir Harry glided over to talk with him. Basil was talking with Sister May, but as he noticed the owl coming he turned away from her to greet him.

"Sir Harry, good chap, welcome back! You missed the fun!" Basil exclaimed, although he could not mask the fact that he was simply trying to act happy; as he was not happy whatsoever. Sir Harry could tell.

"Act not happy for me, chap

For I know you are sad of heart

Would you answer me in a snap?

Tell me where is Matthias,

for I much desire to speak with him."

Basil sighed. "Wow. You've gone off the deep end as well. Only one rhyme in a stanza, Harry? Not up to snuff, wot wot. By the way, where's that Long Patrol o' yours, owlie? Didn't come, did they? Just as I thought, the vain cowards! Why, I bet— "

"The Long Patrol awaits not too far from here. We were coming to aid you, but apparently we are too late. The vermin passed us on the road. Retreating, I presume," Sir Harry said, implying a victory for the defenders of Mossflower.

"Wow! Dropped the rhyme completely, have we?" Basil said. Sir Harry could tell that he was trying to divert the topic, so he played along with it.

"Rhyme is a tool of speech that should be reserved only for times of peace and prosperity. Those times, I am afraid, are over," Sir Harry said. He then tried to take the topic back to the battle. "So, how did Redwall end up in such a state of shambles?"

Basil cocked his head to the side. "What state of shambles? She's as perfect as ever, wot wot!" Just then, a cinder block fell from the ceiling, and while it barely missed his head, he became covered in dust. After coughing, he continued. "Well, they had several catapults, they did, and that was not pretty for old Redwall, no sir!" he said, forgetting that Harry was a Sir himself, but not caring or noticing.

Sir Harry decided to press for his question again. "Matthias? Where is Matthias?"

Basil turned nervously and flitted his ears a bit in a shivery manner and said nervously and shakily, "Oh, I don't know…he's around here…somewhere…so, how's life?" After the last statement, he gulped. "Umm…ahaha…who's your friend there, wot?" He pointed to the Warden, who was staring blankly.

"This is the Warden of Marshwood Hill, and he is to fight on our side," Sir Harry said, with an undertone of anger and irritation. He could tell that Basil was stalling.

"Oh…how…great," Basil whimpered. He was so bad at disguising things that it was uncanny. Sir Harry made his move, and grabbed the hare by the neck with all of his talons. Basil gulped for air and his eyes darted quickly from side to side. He attempted to speak but all that came out was a squeaking noise. Others in the room began to notice the scene, so Sir Harry released the hare.

Sir Harry leaned in very close to Basil's face as the hare gasped for breath, but before he could even start to speak, Basil went off on a tangent.

"WHAT THE DEVIL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME, YOU CRAZY OWL! WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT?"

Sir Harry leaned even closer and whispered harshly. "What are you even hiding?"

"Matthias is dead," Basil said.

Sir Harry took the news very badly. He had not expected it whatsoever until Basil had started avoiding the question, but even after that, he could not believe that the mouse he had spoken to not a week ago was gone. Matthias was a powerful, good individual, and a great warrior, and Sir Harry had not ever thought that as good a soul as he was that he would fall in battle. Sir Harry simply stood there agape for several minutes before continuing on.

"How?"

Basil looked confused.

"How did he die?"

Basil now understood. "Bhriina."

Sir Harry inhaled deeply. "This news is troubling. So, tell me of the battle. Tell me what has happened in my absence."

And so Basil Stag Hare recounted the tale of the battle. He was soon joined by Sam Squirrel, who put information into the story as well. During this time, the Warden wandered away a bit, conversing with the Redwallers, but he never left the Great Hall.

Basil told him of the vermin horde's battle strategy, of how they lined up and launched the catapults into action, and he retold the scary feeling that had loomed over the Abbey as the horde marched upon their walls. He did not leave out a single gory detail, and he recounted how the boulders had smashed into the Abbey's towers, killing ten defenders at once, their bodies flinging throughout the Abbey grounds, and how blood stained the grass. He told of all the deaths, of Constance, of Skipper Rovrew, and all of the others. He told of the Abbot's treachery and how he had locked Cornflower up, and how he had stolen Martin and escaped among the fleeing horde of vermin.

Sir Harry cursed himself for not stopping to find Carnlo among the horde and rescue Martin right there. Not that he would have known about it, of course.

And by this time Jess Squirrel was present, and together they all explained what had happened since the fight, and how, since there was no Abbot to rule now, the position had fallen to the new Badgermother, Auma, and how they hated this so much.

"What is so wrong with this?" Sir Harry asked, and they explained thoroughly all of the reasons why, but they were in fact exaggerating a bit.

Sir Harry still did not understand. "Why could Orlando not do this?"

"He is still being healed, and he is still…away," Sam said.

"Away?" asked Sir Harry.

"Not right in the head," Sam said. "Ever since Constance fell, he has been distant." 

"Okay then, why could Mattimeo not do the job?" Sir Harry inquired.

It was Jess who answered this time. "He is gone."

"Gone?"

"He ran away in the middle of the day. Looking for Martin, I presume. He had the same distant look as Orlando still does," Jess said.

Sir Harry shook his head. "Grave news, all of this. Grave news. But now I shall tell you of my adventures while retrieving the Long Patrol."

And so, Sir Harry the Muse, with interjections from the Warden of Marshwood Hill, who had just returned from a stroll about the room, told them of his journey to Salamandastron, his finding of the body of Winifred Otter, and of his meeting the Warden; and of his night in the mountain, and their march towards Redwall. Basil was the most shocked off all at all of this news, for he was adamant that the Long Patrol was selfish enough that it would not come to Redwall's aid. It surprised him that they had even considered helping.

"Why do you say these things?" Sir Harry asked. "Were you not once a member of the Long Patrol yourself?"

"I was," Basil said smugly. "But I left. They were not for me. So, I came here, to Redwall, and here I have remained, wot wot!"

"Nonetheless," said Sir Harry, "The Long Patrol is waiting for us to return. So, the Warden and I will depart at once so they may come here!"

Before either bird could take off (because it was, after all, rude to enter a place by flight but not so rude to leave it in the same manner), Basil argued. "Why do those blokes need to come here, wot wot?"

Sir Harry rolled his eyes and glanced around. "Well, let me think, Basil! The place is only in complete shambles, there are only a ton of wounded creatures whom need help, and there is only one certain vermin horde on the loose that only together could we defeat!"

And with that sarcastic statement, they left to retrieve the Long Patrol.

"What is the meaning of this?" Sir Harry shrieked. He and the Warden had arrived at the exact place where the Long Patrol was supposed to be waiting, but only around half of the force was present. "Where the deuce are all of the others?"

A very young hare, seemingly almost too young to even be a warrior of the Long Patrol, stepped forth and reported to Sir Harry. "Gone, sir. Back to Salamandastron."

Sir Harry threw his wings into the air. "The stubborn bastards! Let me guess, Aeruut and his crew of buffoons?"

"Yes, sir," said the young hare.

Sir Harry sighed, attempting to calm down. "What is your name?"

"Private Tummscoff Stag Vittlesmythe, sir!" came the enthusiastic response.

"Stag?" Sir Harry asked. "As in, Basil Stag Hare?"

Tummscoff smiled and cocked his head. "Nephew, sir!" Sir Harry could see the resemblance. He imagined that Basil had been just like this hare in his younger days as well.

"Well, Private, I have just spoken with your uncle!" Sir Harry inquired, trying to stray from the pressing topic of Aeruut's desertion.

"Did you now, Sir?" Tummscoff said, perking up a bit. He was obviously under a lot of stress, for obvious reasons. A young soldier in the middle of a possible conflict is, of course, always under a lot of stress. "Is he well?"

Sir Harry nodded. "He is well, although older and crankier with every passing second, I am afraid." He laughed dryly.

"Ah, that sounds like Uncle, alright," Tummscoff chuckled. At this moment, General Lorsca appeared and Tummscoff instantly stood at attention.

"At ease, Private," Lorsca said. "I need a word with our guest here."

After Tummscoff was away, Sir Harry began the conversation. "I'm glad to see that you decided to stay instead of going off like those fools!"

Lorsca nodded. "I was just keeping a promise, friend. You said to stay, and we stayed. But I must admit that I failed to convince most of them to stay. We're all good creatures here, but some of the soldiers during this time are much more selfish than in the past. They go to extremes to protect only hares and guard only Salamandastron. Aeruut is one of them, and he's been trouble ever since he rose up in the chain of command. He's gaining followers, and they all just left, no matter what I, their commanding officer, said to them, and they're all going to get a punishment when this matter is sorted."

"Would you like to know what I think the problem is?" Sir Harry asked. Lorsca nodded again. "I think it is the lack of a badger lord to keep them in check!"

Lorsca exhaled deeply. "I've been thinking that myself. We really do need a badger."

"Why do you not seek one yourselves, then?"

"Sadly, that is not how it works, my dear owl. All of our legend and scripture dictates that the badger lords are destined to come to us. We do not control their coming or going, we are in existence only to help them become better creatures," Lorsca said.

With that solemn piece of information, the two remained silent for several seconds until Lorsca broke the awkward silence. "So, why have you stopped rhyming?"

Sir Harry sighed. "Times of sadness and despair such as this dissipate my desire to rhyme. It should be an art form reserved for only times of merriment. And why, might I ask, do you not say 'wot wot' as most hares do? I have hardly heard that since I came to the mountain!"

"This is a normal speech pattern that all hares face, but in the Long Patrol, we try to oust it. It makes for more formal talking, that way. Most non-military hares use it quite often."

"Ah," said Sir Harry. "Well then, enough dillydally, shall we make for Redwall? I presume rebuilding will take place soon, but I do not know. And, just as a notice, things seem to be…shaky…there."

"Shaky?" Lorsca questioned.

"Let's just say that everybeast's not exactly agreeing on things since the battle," Sir Harry said, and with that, Lorsca shrugged, and turned to the army, directing them to continue the march to Redwall.

Mattimeo awoke; his head was spinning. He tried to look around and gather a sense of his surroundings, but it was very dark and only a few candles were lit. He stuck out his paw and felt canvas—he was in a tent. He felt his wounds and his blood had dried, but he still felt drained and his head was pounding. That stoat had really done a number on him.

Slowly, Mattimeo slid off of the small bench he was resting on and attempted to stand up, but fell. After drawing a ragged breath, he was able to haul himself up and stand. As far as he could tell, there was nobeast in the room, so he started to walk towards what he assumed was the front of the tent.

"Going somewhere?" said a voice, suddenly. Mattimeo jumped and looked in shock as a candle was lit which revealed the face of Bhriina.

Mattimeo made a snarl (or as snarl-like of a noise as a mouse could make) and tried to leap towards her. Two things, however, happened: firstly, he was still so weak that he failed to jump that far, and secondly, when he reached for his sword, he found that it was missing.

Bhriina laughed. It was not the laugh of a sane person. While it was not an insane cackle, it had an underlying evilness about it. "Missing something, Mattimeo?"

Mattimeo made another attempt to injure her, but she simply scooted a bit to the side and dodged his swipe. She laughed again. "What _do _you think you're doing? You're a silly mouse, you are! Hah!"

"You killed my father!" he shouted, before falling back at the rapid energy use it takes to yell in such a manner.

She giggled. "Did I, now? And who was he?"

Mattimeo growled. "Matthias the Warrior! He was Matthias, you brute!"

"Brute?" she said, as if this offended her. "It's not nice to talk to a lady like that, Mattimeo, you know that!"

Mattimeo glared at her. "You are no lady! You are a hag!"

At this point she reached for something on a tent-table. It shined in the dim light and Mattimeo recognized it immediately—his sword.

"Give me that!" Mattimeo yelled, and he lunged for it. Bhriina once again simply dodged the blow, laughing coldly.

Mattimeo suddenly remembered that Bhriina had Martin as well. "And give me my son!"

Bhriina tut-tutted. "You need some manners, Warrior!"

He spat at her. "Why should I use manners around a wicked fiend such as you?"

She suddenly lost her casual attitude. "Because if you do not, we will give them to you!"

And with that, a dart shot from the other side of the tent, and Mattimeo fell to the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

Ash floated through Mossflower. By now, most of the fires had burnt out, and smoke and remains from the blaze were the only things remaining. All woodlander families had moved themselves to Redwall, and nobeast remained in the forest—except one.

He moved through the forest like a shadow, slinking expertly through the shadows. He could not have been seen even from feet away for the most part. He had scimitar at his side and a hood masking his face, but nothing more. His lack of possession only made it easier to move through the ashy woods.

He was Dverger the fox. Dverger was a ruffian at heart and a suave scoundrel in nature, and he always got his way. He fancied himself a vigilante, and he stole from the rich, and he gave to the needy. Some creatures admired him, some feared him, but all knew that if you were on his bad side, you were done for. One such group of creatures was the Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs. It had been bad ever since they came to the region. Dverger had expected to flourish on the chaos, but it had instead worked against him. For this reason, he was at odds with the Coalition.

This was not to say that he was a fan of Redwall Abbey either. He had grown up there as a young fox, but the peaceable mice were not inclined to keep adult foxes in the Abbey. Apparently, they were known to cause mischief. One day, a mouse called Carnlo who had just arrived not long before framed Dverger for stealing medicines from an old mouse's bedside. The mouse had apparently died of his illnesses that night (the mouse was in fact Abbot Mordalfus, whom Carnlo himself had murdered). Dverger was thus expelled from the Abbey, and he took to a life of danger and rogueishness among the trees.

Dverger was presently tracking a pair of rats that he presumed to be either deserters of or the tail end of the Coarc horde. He leaned down and put his paw in the ash. There were definitely footprints, and they even followed the clumsy walking pattern of a dimwitted rat. Suddenly, he heard the rats talking not far ahead, so he ducked behind a tree and listened.

"We should just leave," said one of them.

"Leave? Leave the horde? Bah! Bhriina'd have our hides, mate!" said the second one.

"How would she know? She wouldn't find out! We wouldn't be missed!"

The second rat laughed. "How would she know? I'm sure she's got a way!"

This entire time, Dverger had been climbing the nearest tree, and now he was hanging on a limb directly above him. He was the one answered the second rat, to their surprise. "You know what? You're right! I don't think you will be missed!"

And before either rat could even utter a word, they were dead.

Dverger jumped down from his perch and checked the bodies for supplies. He uncovered two daggers (both of which were not in good enough condition for him to take), a knife (which was actually rather nice, so he did take it and strap it to his sword-belt), and a canteen of water (which he poured out on a small but apparently persistant fire). As he started to make his way out of this clearing, he noticed a figure in the treetops. With a sudden horror he realized that it was a pine marten! It would tell the Coarc of his existence!

The marten took off at once, but Dverger was light of foot as well, and they raced through the treetops that were now filled with few living leaves. The marten was fast, faster than most foes that Dverger had encountered, and he was having trouble keeping up.

Suddenly, the marten leaped down from the trees and started sprinting along the road. This caught Dverger unaware, and he lost several seconds before he was able to leap down as well. Before he could even give chase, the marten whipped around and hurled several knives at the fox, which all implanted themselves in the exact spot where his head would have been had he not moved two seconds earlier.

The marten was really far ahead now, so far ahead that Dverger could hardly see him, so he decided to just slink his way to wherever the marten was headed. He would get there eventually, and he would be able to spy on the Coarc horde.

But the more he thought about it, the more dangerous it seemed to go at that pace, and so he began to move rapidly and continued to quicken his pace.

By the evening, Dverger had actually caught up with the marten and it was apparent that the latter was headed towards the vermin's encampment. Dverger actually had no knowledge of the battle at Redwall, so he simply assumed that the place was their first and only camp.

When they reached the camp, Dverger continued to follow the marten from the sidelines. It was tricky to not be caught, but he managed. Finally, the marten entered a large tent. Dverger found a hole in the top of the tent's canvas and peered in while balancing on a tree branch. His excellent sense of hearing also allowed them to hear their conversation.

"I have news, Milady," the marten said, trying not to pant from then running.

"What?" a voice snapped, and Dverger recognized it immediately—Brhiina. He was an acquaintance of both her and her husband. But no more than that. A friend to them he was not, and he had always disliked both of them. He had met them early in their marriage when they had tried to recruit him for their army, but he had refused and fled. Unlike most foxes, Dverger couldn't stand to be around fellow vermin and their air of stupidity.

"The fox is at large," the marten replied.

Bhriina made a sound like a Dibbun who had just been told that no more cake was left (sort of a pathetic whimper). Then she seemed to lighten up more. "So, our old friend Dverger is back in action, hmm?"

"Yes, Milady," said the marten.

Suddenly, Bhriina turned and hurled a knife right through the hole where Dverger was watching, and if he had not moved a split second before, he would have died. How she knew he was watching, he knew not, but it was not time to find out. He jumped down and made a run for it, back through the camp. Nobeast suspected him, because there were other foxes in the horde, and all foxes look rather similar.

Just as he was about to be free and escape from the camp, Covodre appeared in front of the road, brandishing a broadsword. Dverger pulled his scimitar and leapt at Covodre. They clashed blades for several seconds before retreating a few feet and standing at the ready.

"Hello, Dverger," Covodre snarled.

Dverger chuckled. "Oh, I always hated you."

They clashed again, dueling intensely. While they fought, Reginlim Greeneyes the wildcat came bounding up and crashed into Dverger. The fox fell to the ground, and Bhriina, who had just arrived, put her dagger tip at his throat.

"Welcome to the Coalition, Dverger," she said.

Dverger snarled, but Reginlim was upon him and he was dragged away.

Auma, the Foremole, Basil, and Jess went out to greet the Long Patrol when they arrived at Redwall. Basil went ahead to greet them despite his differences.

Lorsca walked up to Basil. "Well, hello Brother!"

Basil folded his arms and huffed. "Hello, Brother."

Jess was confused. "Brother?"

Lorsca stepped forward. "Has Basil here not told you of his brother Lorsca or his nephew Tummscoff?"

Auma, Foremole, and Jess all wore blank expressions.

Lorsca looked disapprovingly at Basil. "Basil! Why must you be so stubborn?"

Basil huffed once more.

Lorsca went forward and shook Auma's paw. "General Lorsca of the Long Patrol, at your service!" He bent the knee and formally kissed her paw as well, earning an exaggerated sigh from Basil.

Foremole spoke up. "Hurr aye, I pictur'd yon army as bein' a bit bigger, zurr!" 

"Ah, 'tis, my friend, but half of our army left to defend our home in case it is the vermin's next target. I doubt this, but some hares are just…immoveable," said Lorsca.

Basil muttered under his breath. "Just like the Long Patrol to worry about home."

At this, Tummscoff arrived, and Basil immediately became happier. "Hullo, nephew, wot wot!" Tummscoff hugged Basil. They were obviously close.

"Hello, Uncle!" Tummscoff said. "I've missed you!"

Basil scratched the young hare's head. "Aw, I've missed ye too, wot wot!"

Jess mentally remarked that Basil was probably going to overuse 'wot wot' just to annoy his brother, but said nothing aloud.

Soon, the Long Patrol was allowed into the Abbey, but they had to squeeze into one of the more rubble-filled areas (which was, of course, somewhat cleared). Lorsca, Basil, Jess, Foremole, Auma, Sir Harry, and the Warden met in an empty office room to discuss the current situation shortly after.

Lorsca laid out a map of the surrounding area, obviously vying for troop movement and tactics. Basil sat back and waited in silence for the plan to be shot down.

"Alright," Lorsca said. "The vermin are headed along the river, going west. If we assemble enough forces, we could move swiftly and overtake them in one attack."

Auma smiled. "Oh, dear, friend. You must be mistaking us. We have made plans to rebuild the Abbey first, and then we can track down the vermin."

Lorsca was dumbfounded. "Seriously? The vermin are out there, no doubt getting stronger every day, and you want to sit back and rebuild? What is this? We came for a fight!"

She smiled once more. It was actually a rather eerie grin. Basil thought it reeked of evil. "Do you forget that we are a peaceful Abbey?"

"Peace?" Lorsca said. "Peace is a lie! How can there be peace when those fiends are abroad? Others, what say you?"

Basil spoke up. "I think that Auma needs to step down!"

This was a sudden move. Not even Jess was expecting it.

Auma titled her head. "Step down? Why for?"

Basil sneered. "You know why for, you villain!"

Foremole intervened. "Everybeast just calm down! It will all work out!"

Jess slammed a paw on the table! "Order!"

Auma laughed sarcastically. "Oh, now the old squirrelmaid is the judge!" 

Jess shot a look at Auma. "I'll show you old squirrelmaid, you fat stripedog!" she yelled, shaking her fists.

"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU! SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTHS!" Sir Harry shouted. They all looked in awe at the quiet and poetic owl. "You people are insane! Just calm down!"

"Oh, what do you know, you're just a kooky old owl!" said Auma.

"SHUT UP!" he yelled again. Then he sighed. "I swear, you are all damn near impossible! Can we not work out these differences?"

Foremole raised his paw. "I would just like to point out that I was trying to shut them up, Harry." But Sir Harry shot him a glance and he lowered his paw.

"I think," said Sir Harry, more calm now, "That since the majority of us move to leave the reconstruction and attack, that it what we shall do."

This spurred a lot of agreement and objection all at once, but once they were settled again, they restarted the conversation.

"Should we not stay here, where it is safe, and rebuild our Abbey so it is stronger against the vermin? Is that not wise?" said Foremole.

Basil looked at the mole in disgust. "I don't even know you anymore. What trickery are you using, Auma? Will you turn us all into slaves one by one?"

Auma looked horrified. "Slaves? You're mad."

Jess slammed the table again and it went silent. "Do you know what Matthias would say? He would say that we should go. He would say to fight."

Auma was puzzled. "Why should that matter? He's not here."

This earned disgusting looks from even the Foremole. "Who are you?" he said.

Jess piped up again. "And, Auma, do you know what _your own father _would say if he were here? He would fight. I know it."

"And so would Constance!" Basil said.

"Listen folks, I'd love to chat like this, but I've got an anxious army. Are we fighting or not? Because I'm getting real tired of this feud, real fast," Lorsca said.

"Your army can help rebuild, dear," Auma said.

Lorsca guffawed. "Hah! Rebuild! We're soldiers, hon, not some labour force!"

"Fine! Leave, then, because we are rebuilding, and that is final!" Auma shouted.

"Aaaaarrrrrggghhhh!" Basil yelled in frustration.

"No laaaaw! No laaaaaw!" the Warden shouted.

At this moment, Lorsca stood up and stormed angrily out of the room.

"Go to him, Basil," said Jess.

Basil obeyed with a huff and chased after Lorsca. Once he caught up with his brother, he stopped him. "Stop, Lorsca! Stop!"

"Why should I? We're leaving!" Lorsca snapped.

"Leaving? Who's leaving?" Basil inquired.

Lorsca started walking briskly again. "The Long Patrol is leaving!"

Basil ran to catch up once more and stopped is brother. "No, you're not! We need you to fight! We need your help!"

"Fight? As far as I can tell you only want to use us to haul bricks!"

Basil took in a quick breath. "You know I don't want that."

"I know that _you _don't want that, but your superior there certainly does!"

Basil stared coldly. "Auma is NOT my superior."

"It sure looks that way, brother," Lorsca chuckled, before setting off again.

Basil yelled in fury. "Fine, then! Leave! Why should I care?"

Lorsca turned around momentarily. "Because you're my brother, Basil," he said quietly, before walking out onto the Abbey grounds and out of sight.

Private Tummscoff was prepared to meet Lorsca with a cheery salute as he came down the stairs, but what actually happened was an angry General whizzing by and pushing him out of the way. As he regained balance, Tummscoff saw Lorsca go into the area where the soldiers waited. They were obviously anxious. "Hey, when are we gonna get some blinkin' food around here, wot wot?" they would say, or "Ho, Lorsca, the vermin are escapin' right now, I bet!"

"SILENCE!" Lorsca shouted, and all went silent. They noticed that he was obviously more angry than normal, because they hadn't even been acting very rambunctious. The ones who slipped up and used a 'wot wot' prayed to the heavens he wasn't going to punish them.

"We are going," he said.

"Goin' where, General?" Rutep piped up.

"Back to the mountain," Lorsca said.

Several voices rang out. "But we just got here!" "We didn't even get to fight!" "We haven't even had supper yet, General!"

This time he didn't even have to say 'silence'. One cold glare shut them all up in an instant. "Now," he said, "Gather yourselves, for we leave in five minutes."

"Surely we can get a decent meal first, General? Can't we stay until supper?" some brave hare called out. This sparked a chorus of food-related comments.

Lorsca rubbed his forehead. "Alright, fine. We will stay for supper so that you can fill your wretched bellies. But we leave at dawn tomorrow."

Hurrahs erupted from the Long Patrol. They thought they made a good choice by staying to eat a wonderful feast.

They shouldn't have stayed, for two reasons.

The first was that the magnificent spread they were expecting was far from adequate. Small portions and below average cooking were what they got. What did they expect? Two thirds of the food in Redwall was ruined in the battle if not burned or destroyed completely with whatever room it was in. And with the vermin about and the forest aflame, what mouse had the courage to go foraging? So instead of receiving a giant feast, the hares of the Long Patrol dejectedly nibbled on bread crusts and dandelion soup. The Great Hall was filled with their moaning and disappointed chatter.

They stayed true to their word and left precisely at the break of dawn. Hardly a word was said upon their leaving, besides a hug between Basil and Tummscoff and a pawshake between brothers. The only other reaction was Auma, standing in the broken doorway, waving them goodbye and smiling the same creepy smile.

When they had gone for sure, Auma turned and breathed a sigh of relief. "It sure is a good thing those chaps are gone, am I right, Redwallers?"

She had expected a hearty chorus from the closely-knit friends of Redwall, but all she received were looks of disgust or blankness. A few of the younger, more naïve Redwallers gave an unconvincing chuckle or tried to imitate her smile.

"How could you say that?" Basil asked. The Redwallers looked on at her.

Auma cocked her head and once again gave off that terrible grin. "You are a peculiar one, Basil. What good would they have done us? None, as far as I can see."

Basil looked at her in astonishment. "What do you mean, how? They had a lot of good soldiers with them! We could have defeated those vermin! They could be gone, wiped away! The world could be rid of their filth! But instead you choose to sit here and loiter while they prowl the land! What has happened to the old spirit of Redwall, the sense of unity? And the old Auma, what of her? She would have nothing to do with this traitorous business!"

"Old Auma?" she asked, somehow completely maintaining her calmness. "I have not changed. I am the same badger you have been with all these years. I see no difference. And what traitorous business? You are the only traitor here."

That did it. "Me? A traitor? In what way am _I _the traitor?"

"You wish only for others, for your friends, to be hurt and killed in a useless battle, in a waste of time. I, however, see that we need to rest and recuperate, and survive together," Auma said, still keeping hold of the kind tone.

"Rest? Rest? Recuperation? Do you see anybeast here that looks like they are in need of any of your blasted rest and recuperation?" Everybeast scanned the Abbey grounds. Nobeast was seriously injured. All eyes turned to Auma at this point.

"There are some," was all she said. With those three words came an air of defeat.

Basil took his chance and laughed. "Ha! That is all you can come up with, badger? Clearly I am the more talented debater here!"

But she was really a step ahead. "There are some," she continued, "Who think it kindly to wait and mourn for the ones who died in the attack." She grinned slightly, not her usual mush-minded grin, but a new, sinister grin. Only Basil saw it as he realized she was planning the move the entire time.

"Mourning can wait," Basil said. "And besides, do you really see anybeast around here mourning? I'm fairly certain that the time for mourning is done. It's been days. Shall we not avenge their deaths instead of wallowing in them?"

Again, eyes scanned the grounds and found that no one was present in the makeshift graveyard. The stones stood and rested without visitation, and nobeast dared peer into the stinking pit that was the centre for vermin disposal.

Auma was about to form a rebuttal when Sister May raced excitedly out of the new room being used as the infirmary and began to shout.

"He's awake! He's awake! Orlando the Axe is awake!"

This was news to all, for all knew that in the days since the battle that the fearsome Orlando had sunken into a deep depression-sleep caused by the death of Constance. Everybeast crowded around his sickbed in an attempt to speak with him, but Sister May and Brother Rufus shooed the masses back.

'Awake' was an extreme term for Orlando's condition, but he no longer appeared to be in a coma. He looked to be in horrible shape, not just physically but mentally as well. You could tell he was under stress even just lying on a cot.

The first thing he said was, "Did I miss a fight?"

Basil and allies heaved a great sigh of relief. He was not crazy as was his daughter. He still wanted to get rid of the vermin.

"No, good chap, you didn't," Basil said heartily, "Because your daughter here is keeping us locked up in here like children and probably aiding the enemy."

Most of the Redwallers present swore that he actually bolted up at this point and became instantly bright-eyed and angry at the statement, but this stretches the truth. He did, however, become a slight bit more alert.

"Auma? What do you think you are doing?" he said, looking around to find his daughter. But she was not there. The spot she had occupied some seconds ago was vacant.

"Where has she gotten to now?" Jess asked.

They looked around and did not find her until they heard a great clamour back out on the grounds, and an outpour of Redwallers came forth from the infirmary to see Auma crazily shoving debris in front of the main gates.

"What in the laaaaw is she doing?" the Warden said, and everybeast else thought something along those lines.

She truly appeared mad. Little bits of foam frothed from her mouth as she desperately whirled around, searching for things to throw. Bit by bit she stacked the objects up in front of the Abbey gates, like a tower or wall.

Sam Squirrel was the first to figure it out. "By gum, I do believe she means to create a barricade!" Murmurs and whispers of agreement followed as they realized her intention.

Suddenly Auma turned around wildly. "Haha! Hehe!" she giggled madly. She snarled. "Now, no one gets in, and NO ONE GETS OUT!" She ran about in circles, digging her claws into the dirt and flinging it about. The denizens of Redwall stared in disbelief.

"YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE!" she yelled, this time seemingly to herself. She turned around to face the gate and some heard her whisper. "And I'll never lose any of you!"

She proceed to pick up a dusty old lampshade that had somehow made it into her barricade pile and stroked it very gently before tearing it into pieces. After emitting one last earsplitting shriek that could surely be heard for miles, Auma collapsed onto a chunk of sandstone, unconscious.


	14. Chapter 14

Mattimeo opened one eye. His entire body was aching and he felt as if he had just been thrown from a cliff. He felt his neck. While he could not see it in the pitch black that surrounded him, he could tell there was substantial bleeding.

He moved his paws across the ground to get a bearing of where he was. He felt dry, dead grass and—not to his pleasure—a pool of his own blood. A small, sharp, pointed stone lay in the pool, and it all came back to him. This was what had caused the wound in his neck. It had been shot at him, in a tent. He knew not by whom, however.

Mattimeo quit thinking about his wound and tried to listen to the sounds of the night. Sleep was what he needed. He thought he could hear voices far off in the distance, and he saw a patch of light that he assumed came from a campfire.

He heard these sounds, as well as the usual sounds of the wilderness—the chirping of insects, the soft flow of the breeze, and the occasional rustle of bushes. After all, surely there will still some creatures about. And he had no clue whether he was even in Mossflower any longer.

Presently he heard another sound, not one in the far distance or the background of the black canvas of night, but one very near, not even out of reach. It was breathing. The breath of sleep, that is. A soft snore, an exhale, an inhale. All quiet, but there nonetheless, and he wished desperately to know what beast it came from.

Even though all of these noises distracted him, he found sleep quite easily, for he could remember nothing other than the dart hitting his neck. He had no recollection of anything before that. He only knew four things: the sounds of the night, the dart and the blood flowing from his throat, the soft snore of an unidentified creature, and the fire in the distance.

When he woke, the soft red light of dawn washed over the area, and he was able to see more clearly. It was an open clearing, with few trees. There were higher areas on both sides, so it must have been a valley. He could see what he thought was a camp of sorts up on the less forested ridge. Tents of canvas dotted the grass. There was another thing he could recall—canvas. The touch of canvas, a very strange material, but with a distinct touch. He thought that he must have been there before.

The early morning shade of a tree engulfed him, and as he rolled over he realized that he had been situated under a very large tree. He did not know what kind of tree, but it was large. It had few branches, and those were near the very top. Odd leaves, sort of like a cross between a regular maple and a conifer, stretched out from the tree's top like they were trying to reach out to the sun. Small rounded fruits of a golden hue hang here and there from the branches, sometimes alone, or sometimes in small clusters. Mattimeo felt very sentimental about that tree. He thought of himself as one of the lone fruits, and the camp in the distance as a cluster. That reminded him—how was the camp in the distance?

He rolled back over, which hurt. It did not seem like something that would, but Mattimeo was still suffering from a silent pain that lingered in the background of his body. The blood on his neck had dried, and was now caked around the wound disgustingly. The blood in the grass had done the same, clinging around certain blades, turning them red and even more crusted and dry than they had been before.

He looked to the distance and saw the camp. It was nowhere near as nice as the one on the ridge. It was composed mostly of lean-tos and makeshift tents. The fire was reduced to a few embers, and smoke rose from it in plumes. Mattimeo saw nobeast in the camp as he had during the night, which he found odd.

Now he remembered the soft breathing that had disturbed him through the night. He thought about where the sound would have come from, but it was useless. There was not a soul in sight, for the miles of valley he could see.

He sighed and decided to try and stand up. That was a difficult endeavour for such a wounded mouse. He had taken so many blows and cuts in the past week that his entire being felt the need for an infirmary. Obviously there were none around. He supposed the canvas-tent camp had one, but he dared not go there. He did not know who resided there. And the other camp's infirmary, if one existed, was likely unsanitary.

Mattimeo scanned the valley, trying to think of a direction to go in. He had no idea where he was headed, but he knew for certain he could not sit and loiter under the tree. Oh, the tree, the wonderful, beautiful tree—how it pained him to leave it. He could not; would not! And besides, the sudden rumble in his stomach told him to eat. Nothing was around to eat save the luxurious golden fruits. Almost perfectly round, but still reminiscent of an apple, sort of like a cherry but larger, always having one tiny fluorescent green leaf on the stem, and the colour! Oh, the colour! Mattimeo would not soon forget that colour. Its goldenness rivaled that of gold itself! And yet how they were not so bright as to act mockingly or superior, but gold enough still to impress! Ah, the fruit! But how would he get it? How to get to this beautiful feast? The tree was certainly fifteen times his height, and he had nothing to climb with: no branches, no tools, nothing.

Soon he gave up hope, and after one last longing look at that tree, he began to walk away slowly. Before he could get more than a few steps away, however, he heard a rustling. Where was it? He asked himself, looking around wildly. What had made this noise?

The answer was a fox, sitting in the lowest of the still-high branches. Mattimeo noticed this after a second. Some inner instinct that he had not lost told him to fight, and he instinctively reached madly for his sword. He remembered then it was not there! He reached then for his knife. It was gone as well. Drat! He had had it only a night before.

The fox spoke. "Looking for this?" he said, holding up Mattimeo's knife.

Mattimeo nodded vigourously, for some reason afraid to speak.

"Well," said the fox, "You cannot have it."

Mattimeo huffed and whined, stomping his footpaws like a Dibbun.

The fox chuckled. "Well, now, childish today, aren't we?" He then proceeded to stare longingly at the nearest fruit. It was a singular one, not a member of a bunch. It looked ripe and delicious, and just the right size. Mattimeo licked his lips. It was the best fruit on the tree.

The fox just now seemed to notice Mattimeo's hunger. "Oh!" he said. "Do I sense that you…want…this fruit?"

Mattimeo nodded, once again vigourously.

The fox used the knife to gently cut the fruit's stem from the branch it hung from, swaying lightly in the wind before the cut. He set the knife to the side (for it was a very wide, stable branch, and things could be set upon it) and held only the golden fruit.

"Would you like this fruit?" the fox said, not bothering to look at Mattimeo but simply staring into its golden beauty.

Again the mouse nodded.

Apparently, the fox noticed the constant nodding. "Do you speak at all?"

Mattimeo was about to nod, but he realized his fault. "Yes."

"You're quite a peculiar mouse," he said, "What is your name?"

Mattimeo stared blankly. He thought and thought and thought some more, and searched the depths of his mind, but nothing came up. He had no clue.

"Hmm, no name?" the fox said, before taking a look at the fruit and dropping it quickly and neatly into his mouth. Mattimeo looked horrified as he chewed the fruit. The flesh of it looked so tender and juicy, and even the core was golden as he flicked it nonchalantly down. It landed at Mattimeo's feet.

"Well, Mister No-Name Mouse," he said, as he tossed down the knife as well, not seeming to aim specifically not to hit him (it thankfully did not), "My name is Dverger."

With this statement he jumped down gracefully from the tree. It was such a drop that Mattimeo was agape at the simple fact that he did not break a single bone. If anybeast else were to jump from such a height, they surely would have died. But, no, Dverger the fox landed perfectly, graceful and great as a ballerina.

"What?" Dverger said, sounding falsely hurt, looking at Mattimeo.

Mattimeo stared blankly, mouth now shut, at Dverger.

Dverger exhaled. "What? Not even a 'hello, Dverger', or a 'nice to meet you, sir'?"

"Hello," Mattimeo said weakly.

"Well, No-Name, I don't know who you are, where you came from, or why you were placed under this tree with me, but I do know that to get out of this predicament we must work together," Dverger said.

"Alright," said Mattimeo.

"The last thing that _I _remember is being knocked unconscious by Bhriina and her lackeys, and then I woke up here," Dverger explained.

The name of Bhriina clicked somewhere deep in Mattimeo's brain. "Bhriina?"

Dverger chuckled to himself. "Yes, my good mouse, Bhriina, warlord, vermin Queen, and general rotter of the land. But, no matter. Do you know how you got here?"

"The last thing I can remember is a female mouse cackling evilly. And then a dart flew out of nowhere and caught me in the neck. Then, I woke up here," Mattimeo recalled.

"Evilly-cackling female mouse, huh?" Dverger asked.

Mattimeo nodded, but remembered Dverger's advice and said "yes."

Dverger continued. "Was this taking place in a camp of any sort? In a tent?"

Recalling the canvas, Mattimeo nodded again. "Yes, in a tent. I think it was in a camp. Do you know where this was?"

"Well, No-Name, I do believe that was Bhriina you were with. An evil cackling female mouse is a perfect description of her. She must have taken you prisoner as well. Obviously she dumped us under this here tree. Why, I haven't a clue. Where, I do. Do you see that camp over on the ridge? No, not the smoky one, that one!"

Mattimeo saw the one he meant. It was the neater one, the one of dotted tents and white canvas, and of bloodshed, apparently.

"I say," Dverger said, "That we raid that camp."

Mattimeo only stared. He had never raided anything, as far as he could remember. Then again, he could only remember a few hours of life, so he may have been an expert raider.

"Raid it?" he asked.

"Yes, my good fellow, raid it! They have my weapons, and I want them back! So, we'll take them back!" Dverger exclaimed.

This sparked another memory in Matthias—Bhriina, holding his sword. He had a sword. This only added to his identity.

"Yes," he said, "I do believe that I possessed weapons as well! And she has them!"

Dverger laughed. "Yes! That's the spirit! Huzzah!"

Mattimeo also obtained another new thought, but he could not quite grasp it. It hid in the recesses of his mind and eluded him for some time, escaping deeper into the bowels of his brain every time it found itself near the tip of his tongue. All he knew was that there was something else, something he needed desperately, something that this Bhriina had. If only he could remember what that something was.

"When will we perform this raid?" Mattimeo asked.

Dverger stared onward at the camp and the land that surrounded it. Only now did Mattimeo see in the very far distance a mountain that rose from the ground, up, up, and up. Smoke came out of it too, just like the smoke of the campfire across the valley, only larger, and obviously more dangerous. It was a volcano. It was Salamandastron, but Mattimeo could not recall that name just yet.

Since Dverger still had not replied, Mattimeo offered a suggestion? "In the night?" One thing he did know was that during the night creatures slept—he had just had several uncomfortable hours of it under the golden fruited tree.

Dverger shook his head, not prying his gaze from the camp for even a moment. "No. Not during the night. The night is evil. Those crooks feed off of night. Night replenishes their strength. Night feeds their twisted souls. We will go during daylight, when they least expect it. We shall wait for them to send out a party of some sort, so there are not as many bodies to recognize us, and then we shall go take back what is rightfully ours and ours alone."

Mattimeo took this all in. It was the most dramatic speech he had received since forgetting his life. This fox certainly had a way with words.

"For the meantime," he now said, "I say that we shall investigate the other camp. I would like to know who resides there."

Mattimeo agreed to this and they were almost instantly off to the smaller camp. This was completely aside what Bhriina had intended. She had intended for them each to eat many more of the fruits than they did, because she (or Carnlo, rather) knew that if you ate enough of them, you would develop such a craving for them that you would go mad and even kill in order to have just one more. She had figured that after most of the fruit was gone, they would simply kill each other to get at it. Or, if one succeeded and ate all the fruit on the tree, he would go mad and die of mental craziness. This way should could be rid of them both and not had to deal with them. Naturally, she did not tell Covodre, because he was a firm believer of the prophecy, which required Mattimeo alive and in their hands. Bhriina's plot would obviously not succeed, because the fox only ate one, and the mouse didn't get to even taste a single bite of that glorious food.

They reached the camp at the far end of the valley late in the morning, but still more than an hour before noon. The decrepit shelters were in an even larger state of disrepair than either of them had guessed. There were some supplies, but none of them were of very good quality, so they took nothing. The strangest thing was that there were no creatures there. This led Dverger and Mattimeo to looking along the western ridge of the valley in search of these beings.

They found them in a densely wooded area, each one tied at the neck to a tree branch. There were several otters, a mouse or two, a few hedgehogs, several shrews, and a mole. Mattimeo did not recognize any of them, but apparently Dverger did, because he began to wail, and kicked a helmet that lay on the ground so hard that he had to nurse his toe.

"Who were they?" Mattimeo asked, looking sadly up at the hung bodies.

"They were Wymood's Ramblers, the best gang of rapscallions a fox could ever know! I was with them for a time, they were wonderful! They lived in these forests, doing noble deeds, as I do in Mossflower. Oh!" he sobbed, pointing to one of the otters. "And there is Wymood himself, the rogue! Oh, how friendly he was to me!"

Mattimeo felt sympathy for both Dverger and Wymood's Ramblers. "How do you think…how do you think they died?"

Dverger sniffed and wiped away a tear. Mattimeo found it shocking that such a burly and wilderness-oriented looking creature would be so easily swayed by tears. "Bhriina's horde, no doubt. They were supporting Redwall in this conflict, running about and trying to protect this wood from the horde! I _told _him, that Wymood, I _told _him not to take sides! It only leads to death! Aaaargh!"

The word 'Redwall' struck a match in Mattimeo, and he remembered more about himself. "Redwall? I remember now! I come from there! I come from Redwall!"

Dverger looked at him disappointedly. "Do you, now? Well, I was raised there, but they kicked me out, they did! Got blamed for murderin' some Abbot or somethin'. Bunch of hullaballoo! I did no such thing!"

A tidal wave of memory came back to Mattimeo, although he still did not remember his name or anything pertaining his identity. "I'm remembering things now! Abbot Mordalfus was supposedly murdered by a fox—is that you? I was just becoming an adult mouse then..."

"Well, I guess that _was _me, but I was _not _the murderer, you understand me?"

Mattimeo nodded. "Yes. I know. It was the mouse who framed you that did it."

"I knew it!" he shouted. "That one had a devilish air about him, I knew it!"

After this statement, they both heard the shuffle of feet on the forest floor as well as voices that were obviously belonging to vermin. After leaping from the ridge and nodding quickly to each other, they ran towards the vermin camp.

Getting in was no problem—first making your way up the incline and slipping quietly into the edge of the encampment. But after that was complete, they encountered two problems. One was that while Dverger had a slim chance of not being recognized, Mattimeo would surely be spotted. It was not like mice were abundant in the camp. The second problem was that they had no notion of just where their weapons were being stashed.

The first problem was solved by Dverger tying a cloth that they found on the ground onto his shirt, as a hood, so that he could hide his face. The only solution for the Mattimeo issue was to put him in a spare barrel that was sitting next to a small tent at the end of the row. When it was certain nobeast was looking, Mattimeo would quickly move in the barrel to Dverger. The plan was an extremely risky one, but they would have to attempt it, and they were both the kind of creature that would do such a bold thing.

The second issue was not so easily fixed. The tents were almost all identical, so they had nothing to go off of to get them to their desired location. They decided to make for the centre—perhaps Bhriina's tent or the command station would be located there, and the weapons would be stashed inside. They kept on the lookout for vermin who might notice them, and they were only spotted once, by a weasel, but he was so drunk that he only thought the moving barrel was a figment of his imagination. They made it to the centre and decided to look in a tent that was larger than most of the others. There wasn't anybeast inside, so they crept about, searching, but they came out empty-pawed. While there were a lot of items in there, their weapons were not among them. They would have to look elsewhere.

They were saved by the fact that Mattimeo noticed a ferret (who was in fact Lieutenant Crookneck) carrying a large stack of swords, spears, and axes into a tent that when opened revealed a miniature armoury. That had to be the place. From what they saw, only Crookneck and a pine marten were inside.

Dverger and Mattimeo crept carefully up to the tent and peeked inside using a rip in the canvas. Crookneck, who wore plain clothing and looked like an average soldier, seemed to be in charge of the tent, and he directed the pine marten, whose name was Musca, in the cleaning, sharpening, and correct placement of the weapons. And there, gleaming on top of a stack of crudely made and rusted swords, lay Mattimeo's own blade. Dverger also spotted his various weapons underneath one of the wooden tables, lying mixed up with a heap of other devices.

They had no plan whatsoever about how to infiltrate the armoury, so Dverger did a very rash deed that nobeast, not even himself afterwards, would have deemed wise. He grabbed Mattimeo's knife, which he had been carrying for safekeeping (he wondered how the thing had slipped past the vermin, but then again it was quite small) and tore open the side of the tent, leaping inside. He leaped right into that tent, and landed on Crookneck. The unfortunate ferret instantly had Dverger grasping his neck with sharp claws and choking him until he quit struggling and was dead. Not even bothering to sort through the pile, Dverger grabbed the pile of weapons that his own were mixed up in and fled the tent, running quite unsneakily back through the camp and into the valley.

Synonymous with Dverger's fleeing; Mattimeo had brought up his sword and, after a moment's duel, hewn off the head of Musca, and fled as well. Together mouse and fox ran back to the safe haven of their golden-fruit tree.

Dverger let out an exasperated laugh as they sat down and threw down their weapons. "Well, that was interesting!"

Mattimeo couldn't help but chuckle as well. He was regaining his old personality, whether he knew it or not.

Among Dverger's weapons they found two crude iron daggers, which they decided not to use; a rapier, probably made by searats, that Dverger strapped to his back just in case; one short and one long knife, Mattimeo taking the longer and Dverger the shorter; and the strangest object of their loot—an old fashioned metal war horn. Dverger tried blowing into it, but it was so old and rusted that hardly a sound came out. The noise it made was more of a squeak. They both burst into laughter, and they were rolling about in the dry grass, in a pure state of mirth.

When they recovered, they tossed the useless daggers and horn into a tall patch of grass and discussed that to do from that point on.

"Well," said Dverger, "I suppose there's no need to stay around this vermin lot. We could head back into Mossflower, I have friends there we could stay with."

Mattimeo suddenly remembered his dilemma. "Wait! No! I have just remembered! There is something else I need out of that vermin camp!"

"What is it?" Dverger asked.

Mattimeo stared disappointedly at the ground. "I don't know."

Dverger looked confused. Why shouldn't he have been? "How, then, do you know you need it if you do not know what it is that you need?"

Mattimeo figured this statement was logical and so they decided to make their way back into Mossflower, to the southeast. But always, Mattimeo had the nagging thought at the back of his head—there was something he needed desperately.

They stopped along the River Moss that evening for a rest. It was much less cheery than it would normally have been. Remnants of fire still existed in the forest, and there was hardly a living creature around.

Mattimeo looked up and saw a robin, trying to tend to its nest in the broken branches of an ash tree. There was a young robin in the nest as well, and this bird was obviously not in good health. Mattimeo thought about how stressful it must be, being a parent in these times and all.

And then it him.

The thing he was missing was his son.

Despite Basil's suggestion of throwing Auma out of the Abbey, she was taken up to one of the few private rooms that still stood and laid in a bed to rest. She was still unconscious a few hours later, and her father was becoming awfully worried.

"She'll never wake up!" he moaned. "She's dead! Gone forever! My own Auma!"

"It'll be alright, Orlando, she'll wake up in time. She's not dead, she's only unconscious. Let us hope she doesn't develop a coma," Sister May said, before realizing that she shouldn't have added that last bit.

"Coma?" Orlando wailed. "A coma? Oh, curses, could this get any worse?"

"Basil could've thrown her out into the fire," May said, suppressing a giggle.

Orlando was not amused. "Basil would be dead if he did that."

Apparently, Basil was just outside the door, because they both caught a "I heard that" from him. May chuckled.

Presently the Foremole entered the room. He showed genuine concern for Auma. "Hurr, will zurr badger be alroight soon?"

May smiled. "She should be okay. It may take her a few days to recover. I wish I just knew what was wrong with her. It seems she just went mad."

"What is _that_?" Orlando said, in disgust.

"What is what?" Sister May asked.

Orlando pointed to Auma's side. "_That_!"

Sister May looked closer and discovered that there really was something there. A very small object was seemingly stuck into her side.

"It looks," said May, "Like it is made of stone!"

"Well, we need to get it out of her right now, don't we?" Orlando said.

May nodded. "Yes, but it will hurt her! I couldn't bring myself to! What we need is somebeast who dislikes her enough that it will not pain them to pain her."

Foremole, Orlando, and May all looked at each other. They were all thinking the same.

Three minutes later, Basil stood in the room with them, examining the object.

"I'd say she got that stuck in her by some vermin during the battle, wot wot!" he guessed.

Orlando growled. "I don't care _how _she got it in her, I just want it out!"

"Will it hurt her to take it out?" Basil asked.

"I'm afraid so," said May.

Without a moment's hesitation, Basil yanked the stone piece from Auma's side. She did not move at all. Orlando was enraged.

"Basil!" he yelled.

"What?" Basil said. "You wanted me to do it!" He threw the stone piece to the ground and spat. "That was revenge for the past days, Auma!"

Of course, he said this not to Auma but to Orlando. He fumed.

"Gurr, what is zurr object?" Foremole asked.

They all leaned in closer to get a closer look at the item. It was triangular and pointed, and made of a sharp sort of stone. It was rather crudely made, but it was obviously intended to be a dart, or perhaps a spearhead. Blood stained the tip.

"Why, I do believe it's a dart," said May.

"Some vermin must've stuck it in her during the battle, wot wot!" Basil guessed.

Orlando emitted a soft growl. "But what does that have to do with Auma's so-called misbehavior, Basil? Huh?"

Basil only shrugged.

"Gurt magic, it is!" Foremole exclaimed.

All heads turned to the mole. "Magic?" Orlando said, disgustedly. "Do not speak to me of any magic. There is no such thing."

"Well, Orlando," said May, "You never know. That Carnlo was a freak. If anybeast was to be some sort of sorcerer, it would be him!"

Basil let out an a-ha. "Why, yes, Sister May, wot wot! It makes perfect sense! Why else would Auma, a sensible creature, suddenly go mad? This dart must have some sort of poison of sorts infused in it! That would explain her behavior."

Orlando started to pace. "You are all the mad ones. Magic? Sorcery? Poison darts? What is this? Has this attack turned the creatures of Redwall into superstitious loons?"

"Loons!" Basil said, forming it more as a statement than an inquiry.

"Well, Orlando, we don't have much else to go off of," May said.

Orlando shook his hulk of a head. "No, no, no. How about taking into consideration the fact that her motherly figure just died, and I was nearly dead myself? Surely that could make one mental."

"Does that explain that last bout of pure madness there, Orlando? Does it? Because I think that the whole frothing and crazy rampaging portion were driven by something a wee bit more possessive than the death of a loved one," Basil said.

Orlando threw the hare a hot glare. "Oh, so now Constance's death wasn't important, huh? Well then, Basil! Whose side are you on anyway?"

Basil trotted confidently up to Orlando and whispered in his face. "I am on the side that wants to go get rid of the vermin! I am on the side that wants to avenge the deaths of friends! I am on the side of Redwall, Orlando, the side of Redwall!"

Orlando proceeded to use his giant paw to strike Basil. The wiry-built hare flew across the room and crashed into a table.

"ORLANDO!" Sister May shouted.

He left after upturning three tables and ripping apart several books in anger. Foremole peeked out of a barrel. "Is it safe to come out yet?"

May looked at him sarcastically, and he silently crawled from his hiding place. "Hurr, gurt scary, that was! Gurt scary!"

May paid no heed to Foremole's statement, for she was tending to Basil. He appeared as a simple lump of fur lying pitifully on the ground in a heap.

"Hurr, is zurr hare well?" Foremole asked.

"Of course he's not well, you dunce! Look at him!" May snapped.

Basil suddenly coughed and spluttered. He weakly opened his eyes. "What the deuce just happened?" he said. "Orlando…was supposed to be…on our side!"

"Basil, I don't think there are any sides anymore. I think we're just Redwall again," May said.

"No!" he yelled, trying to sit upright but failing. "Don't you see? There will always be sides! No one can agree on anything at Redwall anymore! It started not long after Orlando and Auma came to the Abbey. Ever since those days, we've been having violence! Where has the peace gone, May? Redwall was once a place of peace and harmony! Look at us now! We bicker and go on and it never ends! We are constantly under threat from vermin attacks, and we lose good creatures for nothing! Where has the world that Abbess Germaine built all those seasons ago, when none of us yet lived?"

May started to weep quietly. "I don't know, Basil." Tears fell onto the floor. She cried. "I just don't know."

And there they were. May wept into Basil's soft fur as he regained his strength, and Foremole stood awkwardly, trying to comfort them.

Bhriina sat cackling in the Throne of the Badger Lords, in the heart of Salamandastron. The fortress was filled with bodies as Carnlo gently laid the Crown of Salamandastron upon her head.

How did this come to be?

How did Bhriina and her horde take over Salamandastron?

This is how it went down.

Aeruut and his followers marched to Salamandastron, but not with any degree of quickness. They felt no need to make haste. Salamandastron would be perfectly fine, despite what any General Lorsca or any Lance Corporal Onyep thought.

Aeruut headed the forces along with his two friends Hedmau and Banto. They led the way through the night with torches and told any worried hares that it would be alright, and Salamandastron would be perfectly intact, and there would be nobeast there but the old, the young, and the disabled.

Although they said these things many times, the staggering number of worriers was starting to get the best of them, and all three were inwardly worried themselves.

They were nearly to the mountain when they heard the marching and drumming of an army, not far off. Aeruut signaled for the Long Patrol to get off of the road, and they watched in silence.

Soon, they saw the source of the clamour: an enormous horde of vermin, headed straight for the mountain. They looked ready to take it over, too. Everybeast seemed angry as they gripped their weapons.

Banto was fuming. "You see! We told that Onyep, but did he listen? No! Now look what's happening! And they aren't here to help us! Drat!"

"Oh, we should stay here and protect the weaklings," said Hedmau, mocking Onyep's voice. "We shouldn't worry about the safety of our own home, we should just go to Redwall and frolic in the flowers like the batch of numpties we are! Tee hee!"

"Silence!" Aeruut roared. "We came here not in spite of Onyep or out of any foreign annoyance! We came because we feared attack, and attack has come! Now we must defend our homeland with only half our force!"

"Defend the mountain?" shrieked Hedmau. "Are you mad? They will easily strike us down, they number too many! We will all die!"

"What would you have me do, then, coward? Sit back and watch as our home is taken by these scoundrels? Lounge here and wait as the scum of this world murders our friends and family? No! I will do no such thing! Join me, noble hares of the volcano, and fight! Fight! Fight!" Aeruut shouted.

"Should we not wait until they are all inside? They would be cornered that way!" Hedmau said.

Aeruut looked at Hedmau disgustedly. "You really are stupid, aren't you? If we wait, they will slaughter everybeast inside the mountain, and they will have control of the entire city within! We fight now! Now! We charge! Fight! Fight!"

Yelling and hollering and waving their weapons, the Long Patrol ran from their cover in the trees to meet the vermin horde.

Naturally, when Dverger and Mattimeo had noticed the vermin horde leaving, they followed them, unseen in the darkness that they left behind. Mattimeo needed to find his son, and Dverger was in too deep. He was helping the diluted mouse now whether he wanted to or not.

Dverger, who happened to be learned in the area of tracking, would have had to use his expertise to follow the vermin if it was not for their stupidity and clumsiness. They left obvious signs everywhere, as well as a clear trail of pawprints on the ground. Apparently they did not care if they were followed.

All through the night they followed them, running sometimes and walking swiftly in others, and they went on until the wee hours of the morning, when they came to an area with larger clearings. Dverger knew that they were headed in the direction of Salamandastron, and he knew that that was Bhriina's target. It was just like her to take over a large fortress.

At dawn they came to a large clearing, and Salamandastron rose above the forest, a giant made of stone. Mattimeo stared in awe.

"What?" Dverger asked. "Never seen the mountain before?" He nudged Mattimeo, but then he remembered. "Oh, yes. You probably wouldn't remember it even if you had."

Mattimeo weakly nodded as he stared in amazement at the sheer size of the mountain. He could see the fortress built into it, with endless terraces and cutouts so that you could view the intricate and yet somehow simple inside. It was only when they heard the vermin's war drums that they hid in the brush.

"What the deuce do they think they're doing?" Dverger spat. "Do they really think they can take Salamandastron? That's mad!"

Mattimeo peeked through the shrub he was sitting behind and saw the vast army marching through the clearing, nearer and nearer to the mountain. Surely they were crazy. He couldn't see how anyone could challenge a fortress that size. It was gargantuan, and there had to be hundreds and hundreds of guards inside. Then again, the horde was far more in number than any Mattimeo could have imagined, even if he did have his whole memory.

Suddenly, Dverger and Mattimeo heard a rustle in the bushes not far off, and suddenly they watched as several hares burst from the forest on the right side of the horde and leaped into their ranks. The hares took out hordebeast after hordebeast, but there was always another to take its place.

The hares kept coming, but it appeared that there were only around fifty of them altogether. They were fighting a losing battle.

Mattimeo turned to see Dverger pulling out his favorite sword. "Well, what are you waiting for? We've got to help, haven't we? I like those hares, they're good creatures! Spring to action, friend! Fight!"

Mattimeo gulped and as Dverger leaped out of the shrub and into the clearing, he gingerly stepped out to see blood and death and the cutting of flesh all around him. He slowly unsheathed his great sword, and it gleamed in the soft light of the rising sun. The weight of it was oddly familiar, and as he took his first three swings (still far off from the battle), he felt a great energy surge through every fiber of his body, and as he held the weapon aloft in the dawn, lettering blazed into existence on the silver blade!

O

A lifetime of memories entered his head all at once, and as he raised the sword even higher, he shouted out into the air. "I AM MATTIMEO THE WARRIOR!" He ran quickly to the side of Dverger and they held back the vermin, standing back to back and slashing out at their foes. Vigour and life filled Mattimeo as he cut left and right, killing rat and stoat and ferret alike. "THIS IS WHO I AM!" he screamed down to the body of a weasel. "I AM MATTIMEO, SON OF MATTHIAS, AND I AM A WARRIOR!"

"Huzzah!" Dverger exclaimed, but not looking up from the pirate he was dueling.

And Mattimeo looked up, his sword stained with blood, to the leading part of the horde. They stood atop a small hill, but were high enough that they could easily be viewed. He saw three mice, like himself. The plumpest one he recognized as the treacherous Abbot Carnlo, and he was holding a small bundle. As he shaded his eyes to peer closer into the distance, Mattimeo saw it move. He gasped.

There was his son.

There was Martin.


	15. Chapter 15

There was a certain bit of information that only Bhriina and Covodre knew. This information was extremely important, so naturally Brhiina despised in secret that anyone but herself knew of it. The fact of it was that the Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs was only one of many small chess pieces in a grander plan than imaginable, and it was only one of several massive vermin armies that currently plagued the land.

Far to the north of the fight at Salamandastron, in the shadow of the Northern Mountains and the wake of the Eastern Sea, the Northern Corsair Alliance (which was, of course, only another piece in the game of the Vermin Conglomerate) massed in the thousands. Every vermin pack of the evil-plagued north had joined together at this place, and that was a hefty sum. The North was a harsh and bitter land that was constantly at war, and its rough inhabitants lived out in the wilderness, off of the land and without amenities.

Presently, around three hundred of those inhabitants stood on the frozen bank of the great North Broadstream. Hares, otters, moles, hedgehogs, birds, and a various assortment of other creatures unsheathed their weapons in pride and chanted. Their leader, the hare Rugle, and his subordinate the otter Tiomns rose above the crowd and shouted out to their comrades.

"There will come a season when the unending attacks on our land and the overwhelming rise in vermin population will take us, my friends. There will be that season," Rugle said. The crowd looked bleak as the light snow trailed through the air and fell upon the giant pine trees that lined the icy river.

"That time will surely come," he said. "Look! We have so few, and they have over three thousand! We number only in the three hundreds! We will die."

The hard-worn northerners looked blankly at their leader. His words did not inspire them as they figured a pre-battle speech must.

"Yes, my friends. We will die. But would you rather die in the middle of night, sitting in your camp helplessly as they overcome us, or would you prefer to take as many of those damned creatures with you as possible first?"

Yells of triumph erupted. The old and battle-ready, the young and ambitious, and the all the other merry backwoods warriors cheered. A sense of pride and hope filled the air as the honourable creatures charged from their cover towards the massive horde, undoubtedly to their gruesome deaths. But then again, death was something cherished in those lands, and if they made a dent in the Northern Corsair Alliance, then they were happy with their demises.

Rugle and Tiomns led the charge. The vermin stretched out in a massive organization that covered the base of the mountain chain. The northerners went right for the centre. They smashed violently into the horde, fighting with a grace and majesty that could not be found in the south other than in the warriors of the Order of Redwall Mice and perhaps in the Guerrilla Unions of Shrews. Though they felled vermin after vermin, stoat after rat, fox after ermine, they numbered too few. They were able to make it about halfway into the horde and then they were surrounded. Fewer than a hundred remained. Rugle, Tiomns, and a hardy but jolly hedgehog called Shanyi stood on the outside. All fell silent. A small circle of northerners was enclosed in a massive horde of vermin. It was hopeless.

The sound of an arrow flying through the air broke the silence, and it landed directly in the gut of Tiomns. He fell to the ground without a moment's notice and was dead.

The shooter of this arrow was none other than Lanog, the vicious yet refined ermine who led the horde. He stood atop a small peak with his fox bodyguard Flint, who was a ravenous murderer who could kill his own family without a second thought. Lanog's white fur blew only slightly in the wind, and not a speck of dirt seemed to touch his beautiful pelt. Flint's left ear was torn and he wore an eyepatch. His fur was ragged and bloodstained.

Lanog graciously slid down the peak while Flint scrambled down like a rat. They approached Rugle and Shanyi very matter-of-factly.

"Greetings, scum," Lanog said coolly.

Rugle snarled. "Says the scum."

Flint pulled out his favorite weapon. It was a splinterish pole with a stone on the end which had been sharpened for many hours. He jabbed it at Rugle and the hare silenced.

"Why have you come?" Lanog asked, still in his cool, monotone voice.

Rugle only stared. With a paw-signal from Lanog that not even the most observant would have caught, Flint jumped forward and beat Rugle many times with the flat of his weapon.

When he was finished, Lanog asked again. "I asked you a question, scum. Why have you come? Why have you come? Why have you come?" He said it thrice, like that would make a difference. Rugle only stared up defiantly, spitting up blood.

"Fine, then. We are going to do this your way," Lanog said, somehow still remaining perfectly calm and collected. The air around was still silent. No northerner dared to continue fighting, so ever since they were cornered, they had fallen silent. The vermin did not move either. The quietness was disturbing. Everybeast could hear Lanog's quiet voice.

"For every minute that you do not answer me, one of your friends will die," he said, and Flint advanced on an unlucky mouse. Just before he could kill the mouse, Shanyi spoke.

"We came here to do this," the hedgehog said, before raising a knife, leaping into the air, and landing on an unsuspecting Lanog. He stabbed madly, trying to get at him, but Lanog continued to struggle. Eventually the hedgehog pinned his arms to the ground and after dramatically raising the weapon into the air, he brought it down into Lanog's chest, repeatedly. After six bloody, messy stabs, Shanyi rolled off of Lanog's body. He was immediately snatched up along with all of his friends and carried away.

They were carried for what seemed like an eternity. They were not given food or water. They were not allowed to move. The vermin seemed to have an immunity to tiring, for they ran on and on for many hours at a time without a rest. Finally, when nightfall came, they stopped in a small copse of trees and, after throwing the prisoners in a heap, hastily slept.

Shanyi felt burning pain in his chest and his legs were numb. He could barely move. He looked around discreetly for Rugle and found him propped up against a birch tree. He looked just as worn or more so than everyone else present. His fur was matted with blood in places, his ears were crinkled, he already looked skinnier, and his head spun and pounded.

"Rugle?" Shanyi whispered.

Rugle's head shifted slightly. "Shanyi? Is that you?"

"Aye 'tis, my friend. Don't get too loud, now. They'll hear!" Shanyi said.

Rugle attempted to move his legs but he was so sore that even the slightest moved burned. Having given up, he continued the conversation. "Where do you think they're taking us? It sure is far away. What direction have we been going?"

"South, I think. Perhaps southeast. It's hard to tell. Sometimes we follow the roads, sometimes we go through the countryside," Shanyi said.

Rugle clenched his teeth and labourously scooted his legs off of the poor mole they rested on. "Ah, the south," he said painfully before uttering a strained chuckle. "How many ales do ya bet we'll be savin' some monks and prancing buffoons by the end of this?"

Shanyi couldn't help but laugh. Even in the direst moments, even in the darkest times, even in the minutes when hope seems completely lost, Rugle managed to crack a joke. He considered it one of his specialties.

Rugle winced as he looked down at a festering gash on his leg.

Shanyi ripped a piece of cloth from his already torn sleeve and wrapped it around the hare's leg, tying it in a tight knot on the backside. It wouldn't stop the bleeding completely or keep out every infection, but it would help. Shanyi smiled slightly. "Fifteen."

Despite everything, Rugle smiled as well. "Fifteen? You bet twenty that Tiomns would get seasick when we went out to Ruddaring!"

Shanyi only smiled. Inwardly he thought about how unlikely it was that they would even survive this ordeal, and how less likely it would be that they would be saving anyone else. But he knew that this would only dampen Rugle's spirit (if that was even possible). Instead he turned the talk to their fallen friend. "Tiomns was brave."

A tear escaped Rugle's eye. "Aye, that he was." He reached down to the ground and picked a dandelion leaf. "To Tiomns," he said, indicating a toast. Shanyi picked one as well and they munched on the leaves in the darkness, barely satisfying their growing starvation.

Cornflower stood at the grave of Matthias. She was zoned out, staring into the distance. Her scarf blew in the wind. She seemed seasons older than the night before the attack. She gave off a certain frailty that normally eluded her and her fur seemed unusually grey.

Tess noticed her from up in one of the still-standing towers and walked down several flights of stairs and onto the Abbey grounds. The last of the dead were collected by the Guosim and most rubble had been cleared off. The Foremole's crew took on the task of hauling the rubble and dumping it at the quarry. The graves had been spiffed up and repairs had been made to various portions of the Abbey that were needed to function on a daily basis. Tess strolled across the grounds, looking all around. The sky was cloudy and grey and it was slightly cold in the wind. Normally this wind would not affect those within Redwall, but the western wall was almost completely demolished, so the elements easily got in.

Tess approached Cornflower, stopping a few steps behind, but her mother-in-law didn't budge. "He'll come back, you know," Tess said.

Without turning, Cornflower responded. "How could he?"

Tess cringed as she realized Cornflower had been talking of Matthias. "Mattimeo. He'll come back. He always does."

"No he won't. He's probably dead."

"Cornflower, don't say that. Don't even think that. You know he's alive," Tess said.

Cornflower turned now. "How could he be?" A ragged sob escaped her and she wept without tears. Tess walked up to her and hugged her. Cornflower rested her head on Tess's shoulder and cried. "How could he be?" she repeated.

"Shh…shhshhshh…no need to cry now, Cornflower. He's out there, right now. He's going to get Martin back. Everything will be alright," Tess whispered.

Cornflower sobbed. "Martin! I had forgotten. Oh, Tess, first they take my husband by death, then they take my son by madness, and they take my grandson too!"

Tess now lost her calmness as well. She cried weakly. "Oh, Cornflower! I'm so sad without my little Martin here to hold! I wonder where he is? I wonder what he's doing? I wonder if he's…(she choked on a cry)…alive?"

Cornflower now became the assertive one. "Of course he's alive, Tess! That's not good talk! Why, I bet he's in his father's arms right now, on the way back to Redwall! I'll bet that Bhriina's dead, and the fight is over!"

"The fight?" Tess said. "So you think it's a fight, as well?"

Cornflower looked confused. "Of course it is. They've killed my Matthias! We have to fight back at them! How could you let them destroy our lives like this and not want revenge?"

"I only want my family to be safe," Tess said.

"And so do I!" Cornflower exclaimed. "And so do I! But would you let other families out there be pillaged too?"

"As long as my family is safe…I am happy," she replied shakily, and left the scene at a quick and hurried gait.

Cornflower bent down and touched her husband's grave. She whispered to the ground. "If you were here, none of this would happen. They need a warrior. They need you."

She jumped as Matthias's voice came into her head. "They don't need me anymore. It will solve itself if you can find the key. One of the letters is N. I love you, dear. Goodbye."

And before she could even speak with him, the voice had gone.

Cornflower conferred with Jess and Sam in an old dormitory room that had emerged from the battle somehow unscathed. She figured that these two were some of the most trustworthy creatures in the Abbey, so why not share the events with them?

"So let me get this straight, you heard his voice in your head?" Sam inquired.

Cornflower nodded. "That's right, his voice. It seemed so real."

Jess toyed with a small knife. She twirled it in circles with her fingers on the table. Despite her age, Jess had never lost her warrior side. She looked up. "What did he say?"

"This is exactly what he said: They don't need me anymore. It will solve itself if you can find the key. One of the letters is N. I love you, dear. Goodbye."

"Seems pretty straightforward," Sam said.

"It's probably a riddle," Jess commented.

Cornflower nodded again. "I wouldn't doubt that it was. He did always love a good riddle. Remember when the solved that mystery with old Methuselah?"

"Yes," Jess agreed. "And as usual in a riddle, every part of it must be a clue. No words go wasted." She proceeded to find a scrap of parchment and write down the quote.

"Let's start at the beginning," Sam said. "They don't need me anymore."

"They is obviously Redwall," Cornflower said. "Redwall no longer needs him in his eyes. I think we need him."

"That's all well and good, but do you think this bit could be a clue?" Jess asked.

"I'm not sure," Cornflower said.

"Well, let's move on," Sam said. "It will solve itself if you find the key."

"Key? What key?" Jess said.

Cornflower sighed. "I haven't the slightest idea. There are a lot of keys to a lot of doors in Redwall. Who knows what key he refers to?"

"Perhaps," exclaimed Sam, "It is not a literal key, but a figurative one. Perhaps it is something along the lines of a key to victory, or a key to peace!"

"Aha!" Cornflower cheered. "I would bet it's the key to ending this internal separation at Redwall! Maybe he wants us to unite!"

"But wait," Jess said sadly. "That's only the it. The key must be something else."

"Then the key must be something to resolve the it," Sam said.

"But the key could be anything!" Cornflower wailed. "It could be an actual object, it could be a figurative thing, it could be nearly anything! Aaarrggghhh!"

Sam huffed. "Alright, let's just move on to the next part. One of the letters is N."

"So that means the key must be a word," Jess reasoned.

"One letter doesn't help much, though," Cornflower commented.

"At least it's a start," Sam said. "Alright. The last part now. "I love you, dear. Goodbye. Do you suppose that's just something personal for Cornflower, or a part of the riddle?"

Jess sighed. "Well, with our luck, it's not even part of the riddle."

"Wait," said Cornflower, "He hasn't given us any clues as to where we might find the next letter. So maybe this has something to do with that!"

She thought for several minutes before lighting up. "I've got it! He wants me to go to the place where he first told me that! I love you, dear! Follow me!"

Cornflower walked excitedly out of the room. Sam and Jess followed. They were happy simply because she had finally lightened up, but they were still angry about the Auma affair. They wanted nothing more than to be with Mattimeo, fighting.

She led them out of the Abbey to a once-beautiful tree on the edge of Mossflower. Now it showed the signs of burning and its leaves were scattered or charred. It was still very tall, however, and it still retained its air of majesty.

"It was under this tree," Cornflower said. "Let's have a look around."

They searched, upturning several stones and leaving no place unchecked, but nothing was found. "It's hopeless!" Cornflower sobbed.

Sam suddenly held up a square block of stone. Inscribed upon it was a single letter: A.

"Hooray!" Cornflower cheered and clapped. "That was simple! We already have two letters! This is easy! But where do we go next?"

Sam hefted the stone in his paw. "Well, this stone looks like it may be from the quarry…but that doesn't necessarily mean anything…" He turned the stone over and found more letters on it. "What the deuce does this say?" he exclaimed.

Sasmodeuuedomsa

"I knew he would use the old tongue in this, I just knew it!" Cornflower said. Sam and Jess exchanged confused glances.

"Oh," Cornflower realized. They had no knowledge of the old tongue. "It was taught to Matthias by Methuselah. He was practically the last beast alive to know it. Matthias taught it to me as well. It says Asmodeus. And where else could that indicate than the quarry? To the quarry! Huzzah!"

Wihtout hesitation Cornflower took off running into Mossflower. Sam and Jess stood awkwardly under the tree.

"It's dangerous out there…" Sam said.

"All the more reason to go then, isn't it?" Jess smiled.

He smiled back and they raced after their old friend into the woods.

They walked along the River Moss past the former farm of Squire Julian Gingivere and turned north as the river winded towards the quarry. The forest was in shambles. At this point, all fires had gone out, but many trees were burnt and ash coated places instead of grass. It was amazing how fast a few torches from the vermin could burn down the mighty Mossflower. Of course, the forest was vast, so only the areas near Redwall had been affected, but it was still impressive on the part of the horde.

As they neared the quarry, the reminisced and talked of how they wished many of their friends were still alive.

"I miss Constance's banter," Jess chuckled.

"I miss Jabez's ale!" Sam laughed. His mother cuffed him playfully on the head.

Cornflower giggled. Despite the sadness of their friends' passing, it was good to talk about the better times. "I miss Winifred's childcare!"

Jess snorted. "I miss Julian and Captain Snow's visits."

"I miss Rovrew's chowder!" Sam chipped in.

"Is everything food with you?" Jess joked.

Cornflower chuckled. She strolled along the riverbank nonchalantly, letting the overhanging leaves run through her fur. "I miss the way Loamdog always tried to flirt!"

They all burst out laughing. Loamdog always tried to be a ladies' mole, to no avail.

The quarry came within sight and they neared it. Piles of rubble and various stones, rocks, and boulders lay haphazardly in its clearing. This was not unusual, but there was more than normal considering the fact that Foremole had brought down the wreckage that day.

They searched among all of the rubble but found absolutely nothing. They only searched outside the mouth of the quarry, of course, because who would be crazy enough to go into it? It was a death trap! A labyrinth of dark, snake-filled tunnels!

"Well, Cornflower, I'm not seeing anything," Jess said, with a hint of a pout in her tone.

"He wouldn't dare…" Cornflower breathed, and she stepped into the quarry.

Jess and Sam immediately sprung into action. They tried to restrain her, but she walked several steps into the quarry, looking around on all the walls for a letter. The hissing of snakes could be heard not far off.

"Cornflower!" Sam seethed. "What are you doing?"

"Finding the letter," she whispered, running her fingers lightly against the wall. "Ahah!" she yelled, pointing to the ceiling. "There it is! An I!"

An I it was indeed. It was clearly meant to be one, and not just a scratch on the rock. But where was the next clue?

Their trains of thought were halted as several snakes suddenly slithered out from their lurking places. "RUN!" Sam screamed. They all ran briskly out of the quarry and leaped out into the daylight, landing amongst the rubble. The snakes receded back into the darkness.

"I've found it!" Cornflower shouted. She landed directly in front of a boulder that bore a phrase of the old tongue in small print.

Aa Dcultureerutluc Emarmaladdalamram

"What does it say?" Sam inquired.

"A cultured marmalade," Cornflower read slowly.

"Gingivere's farm!" they said in unison.

They walked back south along the river until they reached the farm. Since Gingivere's demise, the place had become very run down. The barn was dusty and the eastern edge of the building was slightly charred, indicating damage from the forest fire. Weeds that the Squire normally would have trimmed were overgrown. It was obvious that the place had been abandoned for many weeks, perhaps even months.

They figured that the barn was the best place to look, so they entered. It was very musty inside. Several of Captain Snow's feathers still rested on the hay-strewn floor. They once again found no letters or clues. Cornflower climbed up into the rafters and looked down at the rest of the barn. She noticed a letter scrawled on one of the beams: an M.

"I've found the letter!" she shouted down to them. "It's an A!"

"What's that now?" Sam asked. "N, A, I, M?"

"Yes, it is! I wonder what that spells?" Cornflower wondered.

"Main is all I can figure. That doesn't make much sense. We must not have all of the letters," Jess reasoned.

"But there's no clue up here!" Cornflower said, looking around. She suddenly had an idea. "Clear the straw off of the floor!"

They found two brooms and swept the debris to the sides. This revealed a sort of hatch door. Cornflower climbed down and opened the door. This revealed a ladder that led down to a cellar. "It's dark down here!" Cornflower said. "I don't see anything!"

"There!" Sam shouted. He had not climbed down into the cellar, so we was able to spot a small piece of parchment paper resting on top of a dusty shelf.

Jess snatched up the paper and they exited the cellar. After wiping it off, Jess handed it to Cornflower to read.

Salf'fla Dponnop

"Alf's pond," Cornflower deciphered.

"Fairly straightforward. To the pond," Sam said, and the three friends traveled east back in the direction of Redwall.

Mattimeo stared helplessly at his son. His own flesh and blood, in the hands of that creep! He would kill the wretch! How would he get to the front of the horde? Would he get Martin back? A thousand questions fluttered queasily in his mind.

For a brief moment Martin's head turned. He looked back with a bored expression at the raging battle. What had they done to him? Was he himself? Was he aware?

Martin's eyes lazily drifted across the battlefield until they locked upon those of Mattimeo. For five seconds or less they stared into each other's eyes longingly. Mattimeo hoarsely mouthed his name.

And then Martin did the thing Mattimeo had hoped against the most. "DADDY!"

Carnlo immediately smothered the child with a cloth and looked back to see Mattimeo standing on a rock, high above the rest. The ghastly mouse bared his teeth before whipping around and breaking into a run along with the other leaders.

"It is hopeless!" a hare shouted. "They will take the mountain!"

Mattimeo didn't know who that hare was or anything about them, but he leapt down from that rock and faced him. "They will not!"

"Yes, they will," said another hare nearby. "And the mountain cannot be taken once occupied. It is folly."

"Who do you think you are to say such a thing? Surely you will try! In there are your old, your weak, your children! Would you let them die?" Mattimeo spat.

"I am Aeruut of the Long Patrol, and I do believe I would know more about the details of the place I call home," he said smugly. "And who are you? Why are you here?"

"I am Mattimeo the Warrior, of Redwall, and I am here…" his voice trailed off. "I am here because…they have…my son…" 

Aeruut stared sadly at the ground. "I cannot risk the safety of my friends to save your kin. I am sorry, Mattimeo the Warrior of Redwall. We must retreat."

Mattimeo grabbed the hare by the collar of his jacket and slapped him once across the face. Two hares moved in to grab Mattimeo, but the recovering Aeruut signaled them away.

Mattimeo stared defiantly and desperately. Aeruut stared despondently and dejectedly. Finally Matimmeo spoke, though it was nearly a whisper. "And, Aeruut of the Long Patrol, what would you do in this situation? What if it was your son instead of mine? Would you not do everything in your power to save him?"

"I would," Aeruut said quietly, with a downcast glance.

Mattimeo jumped over to him. "Then raise your sword, for the enemy is not yet defeated! We must prevent them from taking the mountain. Do you hear me, hares? Fight! Fight!"

Surprisingly, the hares charged towards the mountain. But as they entered ground clear of bodies, Mattimeo realized there were too few of them. He had sent them to their death.

Suddenly Mattimeo noticed a groaning body on the ground near him. It was a fox. He was still taking in ragged breaths. With mental panic, Mattimeo realized it was Dverger.

He hurriedly propped up the fox. "Dverger! Speak to me, friend!"

Dverger chuckled, blood dribbling from his mouth. "They got me, laddie."

"We will save you!" Mattimeo said. "Once we take the mountain, we will bring medicine! Do not give up!"

"I can't go on, Mattimeo," Dverger sighed. "I'm dying." He looked down to the knife that protruded from his lower abdomen.

Mattimeo drew in a breath and tried to gingerly put his paws upon the blade's handle, so as to pull it out of his friend, but he fell backwards trying to do so, and Dverger clenched his teeth. It had only worsened the pain.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" Mattimeo panicked.

"Go on, my friend," Dverger said. "I must pass."

"No! Not like this! I won't have it!"

"I have but one request, friend. Have them remember me not for my fell deeds of past, but for my heroic ones of present," Dverger said.

Tears fell like rain from Mattimeo's eyes. "No! We can save you! Stop this!"

"Now, go get Martin," Dverger said.

Mattimeo was bewildered. How did he now about Martin? He had never been informed! How was this possible? He had so many questions, there was so much talk, and there were so many laughs still to be had with this wonderful fox. But an expression of relief was now awash over Dverger's face, and his eyes never blinked again.

Mattimeo looked from his dead friend to the mountain, and back. Dverger the fox would be remembered. Dverger the fox died for the freedom of others. Dverger the fox would not die in vain. Dverger the fox would die avenged.

With an earsplitting yell, Mattimeo charged at Salamandastron. The Long Patrol had just reached it, and they bounded up the pathway leading into its heart like the wind. Mattimeo trailed not far behind.

When they reached the balcony at the top of the path they paused and gathered in a cluster. Mattimeo noted that this was odd. The Long Patrol was all about ranks and organization. He supposed that in desperate situations they dropped the rules. It also seemed that these hares were rather maverick. Mattimeo realized they must have been the group he had heard about, the group that split off to Salamandastron. However, all of these thoughts were only minor details in the back of his mind, because currently he was distraught and full of angst at the death of Dverger. The bloodwrath was also creeping through him, ready to unleash itself.

Aeruut stood in the lead. He began a pre-battle speech as the traditional customs of the Long Patrol dictated. "Friends! Warriors! In this hour we must take back Salamandastron from our enemy! We must rescue our young and our old, whatever the cost! I must be brief in my speech, because those devils are most likely approaching them as we speak! Onward!"

And then every hare present shouted as they raised their pikes and rapiers. "EULALIAAAAAAAAA!"

Mattimeo heaved his sword high in the air and cried out as well. Energy and pride surged through him as he screamed. "EULALIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

They charged into the mountain. The vermin had already filled the main level of the city and chaos ruled. They knocked on every door. They brought out terrified old veterans and murdered them in cold blood before they could do a thing. And, most ghastly of all, they threw hare children into lava.

As the Long Patrol surged around him, yelling and making a great clamour as they moved to attack the horde. Mattimeo stood in the exact centre of the fortress's courtyard and stared around. He drew in a breath. "They really are ruthless," he said to himself. "They don't even think twice about casting a child into the fire."

Mattimeo looked up near the grand throne that sat above the courtyard and saw the despicable Bhriina gracefully dueling with an elderly and grey hare. The grace, however, turned to vigour, and she impaled the brave veteran with her wicked knife.

On the steps of the throne and all around the centre layer of the city they fought. Vermin fell like dominoes as Aeruut, Banto, and Hedmau sliced their way across the courtyard.

"AAAAH!" Aeruut shouted triumphantly as he knocked down a pine marten. Carnlo, who stood near the throne, fired a barbed arrow that zoomed right past his ear. Aeruut spotted the young mouse that must have been Mattimeo's son resting on the ground nearby.

His attention was drawn away as a second arrow found its place in Hedmau's arm. He shrieked for a moment before gathering his senses and pulling it painfully out. Hedmau, blood running down his arm, marched in the direction of the throne, slowly gaining speed. Eventually he broke into a sprint and charged at Carnlo. He swung his sword madly, trying to get at the fiend, but Carnlo was more nimble than he appeared and was able to dodge the blows. He ducked under Hedmau's blade and stuck a knife into his side. Hedmau cringed and collapsed before Carnlo retrieved the bloody blade.

Mattimeo looked over to see Martin unprotected, crouched on the ground and shivering. Carnlo was several paces away. This was his chance!

He rushed away from the stoat (who was in fact Stukkleg, the spy) he was dueling and ran for Martin. His arms and legs pumped and moved as they never had before. He ducked and twisted around Salamandastron before he was able to sneak behind the throne, climb up, and grab his son. Martin was about to start screaming and beating as he had done on Carnlo multiple times, but his father placed a paw to his mouth and Martin realized who it was.

Mattimeo considered sneaking out of the mountain to safety. It would be so easy. He could leave. He could go back to Redwall and his friends and family.

No.

He would seem like a coward if he left the Long Patrol to die. He couldn't do it. So he scanned the courtyard frantically for someplace to hide Martin and found a pile of sacks containing vegetables. He told Martin to be still and quiet as he crawled into an empty sack. Mattimeo rushed back to fight and found the Long Patrol had receded in number even more. The remaining hares made a circle around the centre of the courtyard. Most were Long Patrol warriors from Aeruut's group, but there were several elderly hares and weak ones as well. Vermin pressed all around, but as everybeast stopped, silence fell upon the mountain.

Bhriina's deranged cackle broke the silence. "You think you're all so smart, don't you? Ooh, look at me, I'm so brave! Pah! Nothing can stop me, you fools!"

The vermin closed in. The young and old raised their weapons and prepared for the last stand of their lives. Something passed through their minds simultaneously, probably an instinct, and they shouted in unison.

"EULAAAALIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Mattimeo shouted out along with them. He didn't care that they were complete strangers. He didn't care that they weren't Redwallers. He didn't care about anything other than destroying that fiend Bhriina at this point.

"EULALIAAAAA!" he shouted, as loud as his vocal cords would allow. He stood next to Aeruut, and while they knew nothing of each other, Aeruut glanced affectionately at him as if they were old friends. They drew their swords together.

The vermin charged the circle. A mess of bodies erupted from the spot. Pikes and spears from either side pierced multiple enemies at once. While many vermin fell, the hares were so few in number that they dropped to the ground like rucksacks.

Mattimeo fought back-to-back with Aeruut. Mattimeo faced an immense wolverine. It snarled and frothed madly before dropping on all fours and plowing into him. Mattimeo struggled wildly for something to grab a hold of, and caught grasp of the wolverine's neck fur. He hoisted himself on top of the beast and rode him like a stallion about the courtyard of Salamandastron. The wolverine thrashed crazily in an attempt to knock Mattimeo off, but the mouse was more talented then he presumed. He wouldn't budge.

The wolverine tired and paused, not even bothering now to try and remove his rider. At this point, so much anger overcame Mattimeo that he no longer felt any sympathy or remorse for anybeast in the vermin horde. After what he had seen them do, he was done. The idea of throwing unarmed hare children into fire had been the last straw. Mattimeo raised his sword quietly and discreetly so the wolverine would not notice, and then he brought it down into the wolverine's body. Although the first stab had certainly killed the creature, he continued to tear apart the vermin's body by bringing his weapon down repeatedly into its hide.

Finally calming down slightly, he slid down from the wolverine's back and started to pull his sword out of its body. But the sword would not budge. It was firmly stuck in the body.

Mattimeo panicked. Without his sword he would surely be killed. He frantically placed his footpaws upon the beast for support and yanked with all his might to release the sword. This was to no avail. The sword might have wedged itself out a hairs width, but it was not coming out.

Suddenly a very rabid-looking pirate rat rushed at Mattimeo. He wasn't expecting the blow, so the rat was able to tackle him. Mattimeo flailed wildly to escape, but the rat tied his paws behind his back and he was stuck.

"I have the mouse!" the rat called out triumphantly, his earrings swaying. Mattimeo scooted his body over slightly and bit the rat as hard as possible on the lower leg.

The rat screamed. "Yowww! The fiesty little bastard bit me!" He put his footpaw down on Mattimeo's chest, and Mattimeo of course took the opportunity to bite his toe, and despite how nastily, filthily unsanitary it surely was, it was worth it just for a chuckle. The rat sprang back, nursing his toe. "Yowwwwch!"

The rat kicked Mattimeo forward like a slave. As he looked around, Mattimeo suddenly realized that the battle was over. And the Long Patrol had not won. Three hares knelt with their paws behind their heads on the courtyard, several vermin holding swords near them.

Mattimeo was roughly forced into the same position as these hares and Salamandastron was once again silent. Bhriina sat triumphantly upon the throne. Carnlo brought out a crown befitted for a Badger Lord, but it still seemed to fit fine upon her horrible head. He laid the crown gently upon her head as Covodre handed her a golden scepter. She stood up, cape flowing, and descended the stairs of her new throne. She sized up all of the prisoners, studying them intensely, even jerking their chins left and right and tilting their heads upwards with her knife.

Mattimeo now glanced over to see the hares. He had not bothered to see who they were. They would just be put to death anyway. One was Aeruut, one was a very young fellow, and the one next to him was elderly but not overly so.

Bhriina walked back to the elderly hare. She put her knife to his neck. "And who might you be?" He didn't speak at first, so she yelled. "SPEAK!"

The old hare stared defiantly. "I am Starbuck the Third, if you must know. And who are you?" His eyes sparkled a tiny bit. He was obviously a sarcastic hare. Basil would like him.

"I am the death," Bhriina said, trailing her knife slowly along his throat so that drops of blood leaked onto it. "Of many people, of your people, and most importantly, of you." She quickly sliced off Starbuck's head. Mattimeo cringed.

Bhriina moved over to the terrified youngster. He was young, but not young enough to be thrown into the fires of Salamandastron, apparently. He sweated, he shivered, and he shook as Bhriina placed the knife to his throat. She didn't even sugarcoat it this time.

"Who are you?"

The young hare gulped and tugged at his collar. "I…I…I…am…s…s…Starbuck the Fifth," he said, stuttering with nervousness.

Bhriina looked over to the head of Starbuck III. "Oh," she said, sounding falsely hurt. Was that your grandpa?"

Starbuck nodded, a tear rolling down his face. He quickly wiped it away and placed his paws behind his head.

"Hmm," Bhriina purred, pacing in slow circles around Starbuck. She was obviously deciding his fate, and he knew it. Sweat rolled down the back and sides of his head.

Vermin shouted out from the horde. "Kill 'im!" "Spare 'im!" "Gut 'im!"

"Silence!" Covodre shouted. Needless to say, silence fell.

"He will be spared," Bhriina said. Relief washed over Starbuck's face, but Bhriina whipped around to face him. "But he will be forced to work just as hard as an adult, and he will forever suffer the memory of his grandfather's decapitation, even as he dies in our labour."

The vermin cheered.

"It's sick, you know?" Mattimeo piped up.

Bhriina whipped around once more to face him. "What?"

"This whole thing. It's sick. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

She snarled and then after composing herself chuckled. "Do you know?" she asked.

"Know what?" Mattimeo spat.

Bhriina surged forward and grabbed Mattimeo's face with her sharp-fingernailed paw. "Do you know how much I want to KILL YOU? KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!"

A stoat shouted. "Bhriina, milady, look! I've found the child!" He held up a struggling, wriggling Martin.

A wicked smile washed over Bhriina's face. "Bring it here."

Mattimeo snarled. He hated Bhriina more than any other creature he had ever met. She was evil to the deepest level. And now she had called Martin an 'it'.

Martin was thrown at Bhriina's feet. He quickly scrambled up and proceeded to kick Bhriina in both shins. She never saw it coming, and went down immediately. Martin was immediately snatched up by a hordebeast.

Mattimeo saw this as his chance, and apparently so did Aeruut. They both leaped at the downed Bhriina, but before they could get a weapon on her, they were restrained. Covodre took hold of Mattimeo, and Hookhound took hold of Aeruut. They were thrown back in line next to a shivering Starbuck and now young, defiant Martin.

Mattimeo noticed Covodre whispering to Bhriina before she called out. "You four are to be spared from death…but what awaits you is much worse…"

And the world went dark.

Cornflower, Sam, and Jess stood at the edge of the pond. It was a very nondescript pond, much like any other, and yet so many memories came with it. The pond was a true part of Redwall. Cornflower felt like this is where the spirit of Mordalfus would be.

The pond was unusually clear today, not that it was ever very dirty water. Reeds and tall grasses swayed in the breeze along the pond's shore, and a frog sat lazily upon a lily pad. Fish splashed up from the water occasionally. Despite the absence of Mordalfus, the pond was still kept nice and peaceful in his memory. Cornflower was surprised the vermin hadn't had it pillaged. It seemed like the kind of dastardly thing they'd do.

"I'm not seeing a letter," Sam said, making Cornflower return to reality.

"Well," said Cornflower, "I'm surprised they've all been so easy to find. I figured they would be much more difficult. Maybe this is where it gets hard."

Jess paced around the pond, searching desperately. "It's not anywhere."

She and Cornflower had the same thought at the same time. "Unless…" they said in unison, and Cornflower plunged into the pond.

Sam panicked. "What is she doing, mother?"

"If it's not around the pond," Jess reasoned, "then it must be _in _the pond."

Sam shrugged. "Makes sense."

Cornflower held her breath and forced her eyes open. She used her arms to propel herself down, scanning the bottom of the pond for anything that would help them on their quest. She saw nothing, and was about to return to the surface, but a small golden glint caught her eye. Swimming down to it, she discovered it was a small gold piece. She tugged on it, and it barely loosened. It was attached to something else.

Cornflower was rapidly running out of breath, so she burst up to the surface, gasping in the oxygen. "There's something down there, but I'm not strong enough to remove it!"

Sam knew this was his cue as the dashing young male, so he leaped into the water as Cornflower dried herself off. Sam looked around just as Cornflower had done, and found the golden bit. He pulled on it with all his might, and it took a long time to free the thing. He didn't even bother to see what it was as he went up.

When he emerged from the pond, Sam threw the gold object onto the ground before flinging himself up, gasping. When he recovered, he spoke. "What is it?"

Cornflower was already examining it. "It's a crown!" she exclaimed.

"A what?" Sam said, knocking water out of his ear.

"A crown! A king's crown!"

And it was. A golden crown, befitting royalty. It looked like something out of Castle Floret in Southsward.

"Is there a letter on it?" Jess asked, getting to the point.

Cornflower turned the crown over multiple times before finding it. It was a T.

"Naimt?" Sam guessed, listing off the letters. "That's not a word."

"I can't make a single word out of that," Jess said.

Cornflower huffed. "Then there must be another letter!"

"But where's your fancy-dancy Old Tongue key phrase this time, Cornflower?" Sam said, annoyed. "This was all for nothing!"

Jess scolded him. "Now, Sam, don't get discouraged!"

"Maybe," said Cornflower, "the crown _itself _is the clue!"

"But where would a crown lead? There's nobeast around these parts that wears a crown, not that I know of," Jess said.

"The sparrows!" Sam exclaimed. They didn't even need to discuss it. They all ran off to Redwall and the next letter.


	16. Chapter 16

Bhriina and Covodre had selected the most spacious and lavish bedroom in Salamandastron to be theirs, so naturally it was that of the badger lords. Bhriina sprawled out on the monstrous, velvety bed after throwing her knife upon the bedside table.

"Ah, another victory!" Bhriina said as Covodre undressed.

"Indeed," Covodre said smugly, without looking at her. "Morale is up in the horde, too. We're doing well, Bhriina."

Oh, how she longed to kill him. It was her number one goal. She hated him so much, and she hardly knew why. It was just pure, raw hatred. But she had to mask it.

Covodre turned to see Bhriina beckoning with a finger. Realization struck him and he frantically removed the last of his garments as he came towards the bed. Bhriina intimately removed her cloak and tossed it aside.

Their bodies interlocked as Covodre plunged onto the bed. Bhriina made it convincing despite the fact that Covodre was a terrible love maker. She moaned slightly and gripped the sides of the bed before flipping over on top and tracing her finger slowly along his chest. They stayed that way a while before Covodre rolled them back to the original position. Bhriina felt his warm body and his beating heart, and together they pulsated as one, rocking gently.

Bhriina had a plan this whole time. While he was distracted, she continually eyed the knife on their bedside table. She would stab him at just the right time. Soon he started to moan louder and the bed shook. He let out a sigh of sexual relief and she grabbed the knife, raising it up to plunge it into his body. He rolled over to the other side of the bed right before she got the chance, so she angrily threw the knife back on the table. He didn't notice as he went to wash off.

She cursed in her mind. That had been the perfect chance. She could have killed him right then. It would have been so great, and she could have full control over the horde. But he had to move. He just _had _to move.

When he returned, he slipped under the sheets and kissed her. "I love you, Bhriina. Goodnight." He turned over to sleep, but she could not find it. She lay there awake, anger boiling in her veins. She would kill him soon enough. When the time was right.

Likewise, Mattimeo, Martin, Starbuck, and Aeruut had been hastily thrown into the grungiest dungeon of Salamandastron, and were constantly guarded by at least two vermin. It was a dark, depressing, dirty room on the bottom floor of the dungeon levels that had probably never seen the light of day. Mattimeo couldn't even see the other prisoners. It was pitch black.

"Daddy," Martin said, "I'm scared."

"Daddy's scared too, Martin," Mattimeo breathed, for it was true.

Aeruut sighed. "How are we going to get out of this one?"

Before anyone could answer, one of the guards hushed him. "Shut yer trap, filth!"

Mattimeo couldn't see Aeruut, but he just knew that a disgusted and sarcastic face of flippancy was upon him. "Why don't _you _shut _your _trap, _filth_?"

Starbuck sniggered.

The second guard hissed. Mattimeo stared oddly until he realized it was a snake. You didn't really think about it, but there were a few reptiles in this horde as well.

The inmates didn't speak again until the guards were changed. That was the only chance to conspire, and they took it.

"Here's what we'll do," said Mattimeo, "we'll find something sharp on the floor in this cell, and by the sounds of the guards' breathing we locate and stab them."

While Aeruut said nothing and Mattimeo could see nothing, he presumed Aeruut wore a skeptical expression.

Mattimeo huffed. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Not really," Aeruut admitted, "But killing the guards will only raise attention. Besides, we don't have the key to the cell."

"Oh, yes," Mattimeo said sadly.

Two new guards walked in, so they cut off the conversation. One of the guards took their proper place, but Mattimeo heard the second wandering around. And then he heard something else—the jingling of keys.

"Who goes there?" Mattimeo shouted.

A crazed giggle came in response. "Your leader!"

"What?" Mattimeo and Aeruut said in unison.

"Why, it is only Father Abbot Carnlo of Redwall!"

Mattimeo glared as Aeruut asked the question. "Do you know this creature?"

"It is my horrible, gruesome, dreadful misfortune to have, at one point, trusted this filthy, nasty, evil scumbag, yes," he barked.

"That's some big vocabulary for you, Mattimeo," Carnlo said mockingly.

Mattimeo growled. "Traitor!"

Carnlo laughed. "Ah, Mattimeo, you always were a funny one. How is it being a traitor when you were never truly on the other side?"

Mattimeo decided to turn the conversation in a different direction. "Why are you here?"

"I like it," Carnlo said, obviously sarcastic but without much sarcasm in his tone. Perhaps the mad mouse was serious. "It's nice and spacious, and away from everyone else. _And_ you have something—somebeast—that I desire, Mattimeo."

"No!" he yelled. "You're not getting Martin!"

"GIVE HIM TO ME!" Carnlo snarled, sticking his hands through the bars and clawing.

Without even thinking, Mattimeo snatched up a sharp rock and sliced at Carnlo. He didn't see it, but he could definitely hear the bloody hand drop to the floor.

Carnlo screamed in pain. The scream turned into a shriek. He was obviously lying on the ground, grasping at his stump of an arm.

Mattimeo felt the ground and found the hand. In it was the key. He couldn't believe it. How stupid do you have to be? Who reaches through the bars with the key?

Mattimeo would've shouted out. "You idiot! The key was in that hand!" But he kept his mouth shut. It would only raise attention.

Apparently the shock of losing a hand had caused Carnlo to completely forget about the key, because he walked away, presumably nursing his stump, and never asked about it. The other guard silently trailed after him, and while there were no guards, Mattimeo took his chance.

"Aeruut!" he whispered. "Wake the children!"

Starbuck and Martin sleepily were aroused. "What is it?" Martin said, matter-of-factly.

"We're breaking out of this hole," his father said whilst turning the key and heaving open the door to the cell.

Together the four prisoners, now freed, ran up through the floors of Salamandastron, led by Aeruut. They encountered a few vermin. They were able to hide sometimes. Other times they left dead vermin on the ground.

Finally they ascended into the courtyard. Soldiers and various villains were milling about in the city all around. Apparently sleep eluded them, for it was the dead of night. Mattimeo thought with a sinking feeling that their cell was probably just as dark during the day.

"How are we going to get past all these vermin?" Starbuck asked.

Mattimeo put a fist to his head and thought. There had to be a way out, there just had to. They could sneak out there…no. Vermin. They could try to pass through…no. Vermin. Everywhere Mattimeo thought of had vermin. Finally he decided to be radical.

"We'll just charge straight through," he breathed.

Aeruut was flabbergasted. "Are you mad?"

"Yes," Mattimeo said, and he ran out into the courtyard and past the throne. Seeing no alternative, Aeruut, Martin, and Starbuck followed.

Several rats noticed Mattimeo and tried to attack him but he sidestepped their attacks. He wished he had his sword. He didn't even know where they had stashed it.

A weasel rushed out to grab Martin, but Aeruut whipped around and kicked it in its midsection, causing its weapon to clatter to the ground and it to double over.

They were making good progress, and were already nearing the entrance of the mountain, but vermin were starting to gather around and were closing them in. They ran as fast and as far as possible; expending their muscles beyond what seemed possible, but when they reached the door there was a wolverine guarding it. Mattimeo looked around frantically for a solution, but there was none. The vermin were now surrounding them, and they were going nowhere.

All fell silent as Bhriina walked out from her bedroom. She scanned the city to see the four prisoners near the door. She acted surprised, but she really knew they would escape. It was bound to happen.

"Perhaps," she said, her voice ringing out loud and clear, "Our guests here would like to be brought out of the dark, and into the light."

Apparently somebeast knew what she wanted, because she walked back into her quarters without a word. The prisoners were snatched up and thrown into a metal crate. Martin began to cry, and Starbuck drily wept.

The cage was raised on a pulley to hang up above the fortress-city. They could see all around, so it was much better and more interesting than the dark cell. But Mattimeo realized something: if they tried to escape or do anything, someone below would notice. They were practically stuck there.

"How are we going to be fed?" Aeruut said.

Mattimeo couldn't help but laugh. "Of course the hare brings up food."

"Hey!" Aeruut said, offended. "You need food too, and you know it."

Martin spat through one of the cage's holes and it landed on a ferret's head. The ferret shook his fists and growled up at the cage, and Martin giggled.

Mattimeo sighed. He had a feeling they were going to be there for a long time.

Cornflower and troupe teetered and tottered up in the high beams and framework of the Abbey that the sparrows called home, searching for any hint at the next letter. They weren't finding anything in the discomforting place. Hardly any of the Sparra were still alive, and most of those who were had taken to living down amongst the others. Only a few were still up here, mostly the old warriors who couldn't let go of their Kings and Queens of past.

They encountered an old Sparra called Duelnape high in the beams. He was perched unmoving upon a rickety beam, and a light layer of dust covered his shoulders. His appearance told Cornflower that he hadn't moved in some time.

"Duelnape?" Cornflower said, as timidly as possible so as not to disturb him.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and Cornflower was about to speak again when Duelnape let out a great shriek that almost knocked Jess off the beam.

When the decibel stopped flowing from his beak, Duelnape slowly let his breathing return to normal before cocking his head towards Cornflower.

"You scarra me, mouseworm!"

Cornflower let out a breath of relief. She was beginning to worry she had broken the old sparrow. His grey feathers puffed up and then relaxed, shaking the dust off.

"Guessa I dozed off, huh mouseworm?"

Cornflower strained a laugh. This one sure was odd. At least his language wasn't as "Sparra" as some. She could understand him well enough.

"We're looking for a letter!" Jess yelled, from behind Cornflower.

Duelnape gave a small hopping motion. "Squirrelworm! Didn't see squirrelworm!"

Sam poked his head out from behind his mother to signify his existence, and Duelnape exclaimed once more. "Squirrel_worms_!"

"The letter?" Jess pressed. Cornflower shot her a look. She wasn't supposed to get so testy. Duelnape was old. He was middle-aged even in the time of King Bull Sparra.

"Letter! Yes! B! S! W! M! D! G!" he spouted. The letters came out so fast that Cornflower could barely keep track of them.

"Are those _the _letters? Do those all go in the word?" Sam asked.

"Word! Letters! Duelnape knows letters!" he chirped. Sam slapped a paw to his forehead.

"Are those letters part of any certain word?" Cornflower said.

Duelnape shook his head with vigour. "Just letters, mouseworm. A! Z! Q! N! H!"

Jess rolled her eyes. "Look, Cornflower, he doesn't know the word."

Before Cornflower could argue, Duelnape took off flying. He swerved and dithered so much that Cornflower cringed every time. She was afraid the old bird would crash.

They followed as fast as possible while maintaining balance. They were eventually led to a room with a solid floor, which they were all thankful for. It was probably one of the few in the place. Nobeast knew much about this place, which everybeast called The Roof, other than that the Sparra warriors resided there. Cornflower knew that Matthias had once had a fight with King Bull Sparra in The Roof and ended his tyrannical rule over the group, bringing the sparrows into peace with the denizens of the Abbey in which they resided once and for all.

As Cornflower's vision adjusted to the room she realized that it must have been the very room that Matthias had gone to all those seasons ago, because a very old, dust-layered throne sat at its back. Nobeast sat in it, but another elderly Sparra milled about in the right side of the room.

"Malar!" Duelnape squawked.

The other sparrow turned around. "Duelnape! Why you bringa mouseworm n' squirrelworms?"

"Lookin' for letter!" Duelnape said.

Malar pondered. "A?"

Duelnape turned to Cornflower, who shook her head no, but before they could explain that they were looking for a physical clue, he turned.

"B?" Malar inquired.

Duelnape looked back to Cornflower and this time she explained. "No, you see, we're looking for a letter inscribed on something. It could be any letter, we just don't know what it is until we find it. Do you know of any letters around here?"

While Duelnape shook his head, Malar flapped his wings slightly to get himself over to the throne. He pointed with his wing to a depression above it, in the shape of a sword. "This the letter, mouseworm?"

Cornflower stared deeply into the depression and saw the letter T neatly inscribed into the sandstone. "Hoorah! T! Have we made a word?" she asked, looking back to the squirrels.

Both were in deep thought, but eventually they decided no. They couldn't come up with any intelligible word.

Cornflower balled her paws into angry fists. "This is pointless! There's not even a clue here! How in Mossflower are we supposed to do this?"

She stomped over to a bookcase built into the right wall of the room and banged her fists on it repeatedly. She stopped and a tear ran down her face. "I just want my family safe."

To everybeast's surprise, the bookcase started to move apart and a door was revealed. Jess gasped. "Did anybeast know of this?"

Even the sparrows shook their heads astoundedly. Cornflower was the first to enter the room, followed by Jess, Sam, and the sparrows, who flitted instead of walking.

The room was pitch black, so Cornflower couldn't see a thing, but somehow she knew that they were walking on the only solid part of the room. To test this, she threw a bit of wood she stepped on. It made a sound as if it hit a narrow board of similar property and fell.

"Be careful," Cornflower said, "The rest of this place is like the rest of the roof."

Seemingly endless, the room never got any brighter. It appeared to have no windows, and Cornflower didn't know what it _did_ have, because they were afraid of falling into a possible—no, _probable_—abyss.

Cornflower was getting worried. From what she had gathered and the minimal view she now had, since her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the path they trod upon was not widening but getting smaller, and the walls seemed to be getting closer on all sides, even above.

"Where the devil is this taking us?" Jess complained. "We must be halfway across this building by now!"

Cornflower said nothing, for she knew that Jess knew that she didn't know.

Sam laughed, breaking the near silence that had trailed them the whole time. "I'll be amused when we end up in the Great Hall!"

"The Great Hall isn't even connected to this part of the Abbey, son," Jess said, almost scolding him for a joke.

"I know that, mother! It was a joke!"

Jess snorted without mirth. "Not a very good one, then."

"Do shut your mouths!" Cornflower said harshly, before bumping her head on the ceiling. "This blasted ceiling just keeps getting lower!"

She looked back. She could only see Jess. She sighed. "Listen. I'm just going to go on alone. There's no use in us all getting cramped."

"No! We're coming!" Jess exclaimed.

"You will stay here, and that's an order!" Cornflower said.

Jess tried not to laugh, but a giggle escaped her mouth. "An order? Who are you, a corporal of the Long Patrol?"

Even without truly seeing, Jess could tell that Cornflower, seething, bared her teeth and began to crawl forward. She was practically closed in. Claustrophobia set in. Somehow Cornflower wished to be locked in the wardrobe again. At least there was space to move.

"I think I see a light ahead!" Cornflower exclaimed, for a soft glow was in the distance. She looked back and realized that Jess and the others had actually stayed behind. She thought they were right behind her. Terror crept into her systems. She hadn't really wanted them to stay behind in the first place, but she really wanted them here now.

Cornflower continued to shimmy her way through the increasingly tight space until the light was close enough to see, and suddenly the tight space went away. An open room was before her, dimly lit by two tiny windows and as far as Cornflower could see contained only a table with a large drawer. She flung her tired body onto the table and rested for several seconds before recovering and opened the drawer. The only thing inside was a piece of paper. Cornflower couldn't read it in the dim light, so she folded it up, hoping it wasn't too important not to be folded, and mentally prepared herself for the return to her friends. She peered briefly out of one of the windows to see an immense drop to the Abbey grounds. She noticed that this was the high point of this portion of Redwall, because it was nearly even with the crest and bell tower of the main building. Well, what was left of the crest and bell tower of the main building, anyway.

Making sure the paper was deep in her pocket and secure, Cornflower got down on her paws and knees and began crawling back through the roof. After what seemed like ages, the ceiling and walls started to expand away from her and she was able to stand up and walk. She trotted along at a fairly good pace until reaching the spot where she left her comrades. Not to her surprised, nobeast was there. Of course they had gone back. Who would want to crouch in a stuffy place like this for long?

She expected them to be in the throne room when she reached it, but nobeast was in sight. She panicked a little inside, but put it down. Perhaps they had just gone down to get some air. It was quite stuffy in here. She tugged her collar. Quite…stuffy.

"Give me the paper," a voice said suddenly, from behind her.

Cornflower whipped around to see nothing. Nobeast was there. Her head spun. Surely she was hallucinating. Where had the voice come from?

"Give it to me," the voice repeated, whispering in her ear. Cornflower once again whipped around to find nothing.

"What's going on? Stop this!" she shouted in vain.

Cornflower walked around the room dizzily until the voice rang out once more. "I said give me the paper," it demanded.

She looked around until she noticed somebeast standing in the corner of the room, tucked behind a shelf.

It was Tess.

Orderliness no longer mattered. Rank was but a flippancy. Marching, flawed. Correct weapons positioning for running was a burden. For Lorsca had a hunch, and when Lorsca had a hunch, these things were dispelled. His hunch was more of a worry, really, a worry that Salamandastron was in danger. And in danger it was.

Lorsca, Onyep, Tummscoff, Relab, and Rutep ended up in front as they raced across the clearing in front of Salamandastron. Some raised their weapons, anticipating a fight, even though it was just based upon a hunch. They ran towards the mountain with vigour.

And then they came across the first of the bodies.

What might have been hundreds of both vermin and hares lay slain over the field. The Long Patrol slowed to a walk and Lorsca dropped to his knees.

"We're too late," he whispered, tears falling to the bloodstained ground.

Onyep stabbed his sword into the ground in anger.

"Wait!" Tummscoff exclaimed. "If a battle was fought here, the vermin are controlling the mountain!"

Relab sniffed. "And? Your point?"

"We need to take it back!" he yelled.

"Easier said than done," muttered Lorsca.

Tummscoff stared at him blankly. "General, where's your spirit? Where's your warrior flame? Normally you'd be itching to attack!"

Lorsca straightened himself. "You know what?" he said to the others, "I think Private Vittlesmythe is right. We should attack."

Rutep drew in air. "I dunno, General, they have the advantage here. That's why we built the fortress the way we did, so invaders would fail Thing is, we've never _been _the invaders."

"Then that is why we must think like invaders!" Lorsca exclaimed. "And right now, we are invading our own mountain!"

Without a word, Lorsca started running forward, and the Long Patrol followed. As they neared the mountain details became available to the wandering eye, and Lorsca caught sight of a balcony. On that balcony, a fox had bent the knee and was aiming a bow at the hares. Lorsca looked, panicked, to see that every window, balcony, and crevice was occupied by an archer.

"STOP!" Lorsca shouted. Only a few hares did.

"STOP!" he yelled again, as several hares fell to arrows.

"I SAID TO STOP!" he practically screamed, and this time mostly everybeast followed his command. Several hares lay dead on the ground amongst the rotting carcasses of friend and foe from not a day ago.

Lorsca dramatically flung down his sword. He looked around and ripped a piece of an unsuspecting hare's sleeve off, tied it to a twig, and waved it sarcastically in the air, parading about like a fool.

Bhriina, Covodre, and Carnlo walked out onto Salamandastron's largest balcony and stared down. Bhriina laughed. "You fool!"

Lorsca threw down the flag and stood, looking disgustingly up at her. She laughed again. He seethed. "First, you take my people. Then, you take my mountain. I suppose you've taken our belongings too? And our children?"

"The goods of your city are in our…inventory," she said, drawing the words out lavishly and pausing to stretch and yawn. Lorsca hated her, standing up there all royally while he and his men, the true royals, were dirty, sweaty, and bloody below.

"And we have four captives," she said, with a snort.

Lorsca's eyes widened. Four captives? But that meant…

"Four, you say?"

Bhriina smiled, tracing her fingernails across the beautifully carved stonework of the balcony. "Yes, four."

"And what of our old? Our children? What have you done with them?" he said angrily.

She suppressed an evil laugh. "Let's just say you won't be seeing them again anytime soon." She smiled wickedly. Lorsca bared his teeth.

"Or any time, for that matter," she called down with a grin.

Lorsca picked up an arrow from the ground. "YOU BRUTE!" He threw the arrow up at her, but it fell pathetically without even nearing the balcony. Bhriina laughed, on the verge of mirthful tears. "You really do try, don't you?" She chuckled. "Well, it's time for your bodies to join those of your children, in the lava of the mountain."

All of the archers aimed suddenly back at the hares and pulled back the strings. The Long Patrol whimpered helplessly, a gaggle of worn bodies.

"WAIT!" Lorsca yelled, just before they released the arrows.

Bhriina, who had been walking back into the city, turned.

Lorsca, poor old Lorsca, his ear ragged, his body dirty, his uniform torn, bent on one knee in the bloody mud and shoved his sword into the earth. "We…will serve you."

Gasps escaped the Long Patrol, but most of them got to the memo and bowed as well. It was either serve them and try to hurt them from the inside or die now.

Bhriina considered the offer for a moment. "No thank you. You'll only hinder me." She waved on the archers and they once again drew back their arrows.

"WAAAAAIT!" Lorsca screamed, his throat dry and his voice cracking.

Bhriina whipped around devilishly, not at all like her casual royal-like bureaucrat swag from before. "WHAT IS IT NOW? CAN YOU NOT JUST DIE?"

"We…," he said, "Could prove valuable. We could perform much-needed labour for your horde…they could…relax."

Bhriina glared. "We've no need for hired labour here, thank you. NOW KILL THEM!"

"STOOOOPPPPPPPPPPP!" Lorsca yelled. He could tell this was the last straw by the intense glare upon his enemies' face.

"We will give to you our unconditional surrender. We are yours," he said, reluctantly.

Bhriina smiled evilly. "So, General, you are entering the cog in the wheel that is slavery. Oh, no. I'm sorry. You're a slave!"

She briefly reconsidered her statement, as everybeast's faces were blank. "That wasn't quite as funny as I imagined. But look at you fools! Brought from being a stupid army of royalty in a gleaming volcanic fortress to the petty slaves of a vermin horde. Quite sad, really. For you!"

Lorsca looked dejected and defeated.

"I guess since we now have slaves, we'll need some slavers…Covodre, dear, send out our best agents to make contact with the Northern Corsair Alliance. It's time we did business with our old pal Lanog!" she cackled.

"Lanog is deceased now, Milady," Carnlo supplied.

Bhriina stared. "Killed by whom?"

"Northern dissidents, presumably," the fat mouse grunted.

"Who is in charge now?"

"Flint, Milady," Carnlo answered.

The wickedest smile yet crept over her face. "Perfect!"

Shanyi missed being carried. At least then, they didn't have to endure much physical activity. For the past two days, the northerners had been forced to run with their paws tied behind their backs. They drank only once each day, when they chanced upon a stream, and they ate only what they could discreetly scavenge there. If they went too slow, they were screamed at, beaten, and whipped until they kept running or died. Everybeast was covered in the marks from Flint's whip. It was unorthodox for him, the leader, to do the whipping and beating, but he seemed to really enjoy it, and his comrades allowed him to do it.

At midday on the third day, they came across a river that seemed to stretch into the forest to the west for eternity. Shanyi presumed that this was Mossflower Woods, but he was skeptical that they had traveled so far south. With shocking realization, however, he knew that this was the River Moss. They had gone south at an alarming rate, and went much farther east than Shanyi predicted, for since to the east forest dominated and to the west was a vast desert, that meant they were at the edge of Mossflower and at the east of all charted lands.

Shanyi sought out Aeruut and whispered in his ear. "This is the River Moss, Aeruut!"

Aeruut didn't seem to care. He was as thin as a stick, and looked nearly dead. His lips finally formed words. "I don't care what the blasted river is, Shanyi, I just want to drink from it!"

His chances were crushed as Flint came before the slaves and horde and shouted. "There will be no drinking here!"

Moans outpoured from the slaves. They hadn't had a drink since the previous morning, and that drink was hardly satisfying.

"Why not?" some brave (or was it foolish?) soul shouted out.

Flint saw the insurgent—a young hare. He pushed through the crowd with raw power and grabbed the terrified hare by his jaw.

"Because," Flint whispered eerily. "I SAID SO!" He grabbed the hare's head, snapped his neck, and threw the body on the ground. "ANY MORE INTERRUPTIONS?"

Silence fell for several seconds, but a tiny, old, squeaky voice came into the ear soon after. "You'll never win!" the voice said. Flint searched madly for the source until it repeated itself. "You'll never win!"

Finally, Flint whipped around and saw an elderly mouse with a ghostly and amorphous air about him standing on the other side of the river. "Evil always loses, fox!"

Flint roared in anger. "Get him! Throw him in with others! Make him suffer!"

Several martens and stoats closed in around the old mouse when he whipped out a giant sword, seemingly from nowhere, and bashed one of the stoats in the face with it. The stoat fell back, reeling, blood rushing from his face and into the outside world. The old mouse leapt from his spot with surprising agility and plunged the blade into the stoat's head, killing him.

One of the martens rushed at the mouse and swung his axe right into the mouse, but instead of the weapon finding its place and the mouse dying, as it should have been, the mouse completely disappeared, seconds before the impact.

"Where'd he go?" the marten exclaimed.

The mouse materialized in one of the trees, leapt down, and evenly decapitated the marten on the way down. He then burst into action, sword beginning to glow, and kicked upwards at an oncoming stoat while slashing at the nearest marten.

"AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!" Flint screamed. He splashed across the river and pulled his weapon as soon as he reached the other bank. He lunged at the mouse, and their blades crossed. While the mouse was distracted, Flint pulled a knife from a pocket in his side and stabbed the mouse. He thought the mouse would fall dead, but he only disappeared.

Flint searched madly for his adversary, but did not find him until he looked up. There, in the air, above the trees, stood the mouse.

"I AM THAT IS!" the mouse shouted, holding his sword aloft, before dematerializing and disappearing. Flint gaped at the place where the mouse had stood. After a few seconds, Flint shook his head, shivering, and shouted out to the slaves and horde.

"We're leaving! We must soon reach our destination!"

And they were off.

"T…Tess…why…are you here?" Cornflower said shakily, slowly looking around for anything to defend herself if necessary.

Tess let out a restrained hellish snicker. "To stop your warmongering!"

"What is wrong with you?" Cornflower spat.

Tess came out of the shadows. She was somehow skinnier than early that same day and had a drugged, deranged look about her. Her clothes were slightly torn and her fur was ruffled. She looked as if she had been attacked. But the strangest things of all were her eyes—they seemed cloudy, distant. It was horrifying.

"The better question," said Tess, "Would be what is wrong with you?"

Cornflower looked disgustedly at her.

"I believed in Auma," Tess said proudly, "Peace! Restoration! Leave the vermin to do whatever they please!"

"Who…are you?" Cornflower breathed.

"Now," she said slowly, "GIVE ME THE PAPER!"

She leapt at Cornflower, who quickly grabbed a candle display from the nearest table and hit her as hard as possible with it. Tess reeled back and fell to the floor painfully, scorched by the candle wax. She moaned creakily.

Cornflower leaned down and grabbed Tess by the jaw. She leaned in close to her face and whispered angrily. "Where are Sam, Jess, Duelnape, and Malar?"

Tess giggled evilly but said nothing. She obviously was unafraid. Cornflower brought her up suddenly by the collar of her dress and slammed her against the frame of an open window.

"WHERE ARE THEY?" Cornflower roared. Tess still said nothing and only cackled.

Cornflower held her pinned to the window with one paw and snatched the still-lit candle with the other. She put the candle up to Tess's throat. "TELL ME OR I SWEAR I WILL HURT YOU, TESS! TELL ME NOW! WHERE ARE THEY?"

Just as she was about to say something, Tess's eyes milked over and she slumped down. Cornflower released her and Tess's form crumpled to the floor. Cornflower checked to see that she was still breathing and decided to leave her, instead pulling out the piece of crinkled paper. Scrawled on it in tiny print was a message, this time in the common tongue.

You must go now to the place where you least wish to go

Be not afraid, for there you will find the key

And all will be well again

Take nobeast along; you will not need them

Take nothing along; you will not need it

Tell nobeast; no more than the key

Your friends are safe, worry not

Tess and Auma shall be fine, scold not

I am that is, cry not

Cornflower didn't follow the letter's instructions exactly.

She cried.


	17. Chapter 17

The Northern Corsair Alliance and their captives came within viewing distance of a massive structure. It looked oddly out of place in this blank desert expanse, its towering black spires, steeples, keeps, windows, and parapets looming over the emptiness. Lights shone from the windows in the twilight and the clanging sounds of blacksmith work and the trudging of armoured individuals could be caught in the ears of the perceptive. As they drew closer, more details became evident—the place seemed to be entirely constructed out of a deep black mineral, and a small moat surrounded it. Careful looking once they were up to it revealed that a substance other than water filled it; a purplish green liquid that the captives assumed was poison. A large, seemingly square barbican loomed before the moat, however. Flint and several of the high-ranking corsairs entered the barbican privately before exiting with a few more creatures than when they entered. These that came out were much more uniform and noble in appearance than any of the corsairs, and they wore thick black armour and other obviously standard apparel pieces.

"Attention!" Flint shouted, his voice rising above the hushed murmurs of both vermin and northerner alike. His voice really caught your attention, and it was a good thing, because otherwise you were likely to be forced to listen.

Flint began. "This place is Dunnk, or, more officially, Castle Dunnk, and Capital of the Conglomerate. We will now be staying here along with several other armies and the wonderful staff of this facility, the first of which you will meet is standing right here," he said, ushering the speech on to a stately stoat who stood in front of the others who came from the barbican.

The stoat cleared his throat and spoke in a very regal, refined voice. "Greetings, Northern Corsair Alliance, and…captives," he said, looking down upon the battered northerners. "I am Commander Yamout, in charge of all whom enter and exit this establishment. In other words, I am in charge of the barbican, and I must ensure its security and safety. Before you are allowed into Castle Dunnk, I must check on some various statuses about each one of you before I allow you to cross the drawbridge and enter the lower bailey. If one of you fails to comply, you will be placed in the jurisdiction of my associate here, Sergeant Aikyta." He motioned to a hulking and yet still refined-looking wolverine in full armour and wielding a frightening axe that stood behind him. "Any questions?" Naturally nobeast said a word. The vermin leaders filed into the barbican in a neat line and were all allowed through into the barbican's holding area, situated directly below the left parapet walk.

Shanyi nudged Rugle. "They're all about location and rank here, aren't they? Commander this, sergeant that, barbican this, lower bailey that! It's too much organization!"

Rugle snorted. "I heard that ferret over there directing some poor sap to the 'barbican holding area, below the left parapet walk'. Hah! Such silliness. I feel like this is going to be a place of order and bureaucracy, not something our northern adversaries are known for."

Shanyi nodded. "Vermin in the north are rough and tumble, drink and bumble. Apparently vermin in the desert are no nonsense and royal." 

The ferret Rugle had referenced earlier walked briskly over when he heard their hushed chatter. "Silence, prisoners!" he said, scolding, with a thick accent.

Rugle chuckled to himself. "Who are you to silence us?" he spat defiantly.

The ferret sneered. Rugle reconsidered his statement, because he was beginning to think that the ferret was taking it as a verbal challenge. "If you must know, I am Captain Raedlonis Stijtyk, currently serving as Second Assistant Barbicankeeper, formerly Chief Barbicankeeper and Sir; to silence you."

"Why aren't you the Chief and Sir anymore?" Shanyi piped up.

Raedlonis glared but decided to answer. "Commander Yamout challenged me to a formal duel over internal matters and defeated me. I lost my position and title but have worked my way back up. I hope that someday I will take back my original position. And who might _you _be?" he asked mockingly of Shanyi.

"I'm Shanyi. This is Rugle," he said, gesturing towards the hare, who looked up, bored.

"Not anymore, you're not," said Raedlonis as an oddly fresh looking rat came by and taped the numbers twenty-six and twenty-seven on their arms.

"Thank you, Corporal Elann," Raedlonis called to the rat as he, disgruntled, continued with his work. "Actually, now you're NCA Prisoners twenty-six and twenty-seven." He smirked with an I'm-better-than-you look and went his own way.

Rugle shook his shackles violently in anger. "I don't want to be here! I'd rather be anywhere else! AAAAAGH!"

Several vermin heard Rugle's shriek and looked intensely at him. That was disquieting enough for him to stop vocalizing.

Eventually, after what seemed an eternity but was in reality shorter than an hour, the vermin had finished filing through the barbican and the last few were passing over the drawbridge, marveling at the architecture of the castle and merrily accepting this fortification as the first solid home they'd had for seasons.

Since the prisoners lacked anything other than the clothes on their backs, there was no need for them to be inspected individually, and they were allowed through the barbican quickly enough. They were looked down un-thoroughly by Aikyta before they passed onto the drawbridge. Their pathetic little group was flanked on either side by an armoured vermin guard.

After clearing past two elaborately decorated guards at the front door that held tall pikes, they were allowed to enter the castle and came out on what a normal creature probably would have called the castle grounds. But, being Castle Dunnk, this area was officially called the "lower bailey". The main bailey was actually smaller for some reason and was off to the right. This area was wide open other than a huge well in the centre. Armoured, official-looking creatures went about their business across the bailey, but there were also many unarmoured vermin, who were probably of visiting hordes, milling and meandering about the bailey. Even unarmed females and children were among the many who apparently populated Castle Dunnk.

The guards who accompanied the prisoners halted, so the northerners did the same. They truly looked out of place in this bustling fortress of vermin. A batch of scraggly, worn resistance fighters was really all they were, Rugle mused. They were nothing 'special' like all of the creatures of 'rank' and 'importance' that were here.

A brown-pelted fox—a very rare thing indeed, most were reddish or grey—who seemed quite happier than most of the folk in the bailey and had a certain skip in his step and twinkle in his eye came up to the prisoners. He didn't appear to be armed or armoured, and wore a green outfit, quite out of place in the sea of black-armoured soldiers and generally drab-clothed or unclothed hordebeasts. "I assume this is the new batch of prisoners?" the fox asked of the guards.

The guards stood perfectly still and said absolutely nothing. Rugle wondered if they were even blinking behind their helmets.

"Splendid!" the fox exclaimed, even though the guards never answered him. He turned to the northerners. "Greetings. I am Avak Toda. I would tell you to call me Avak, but seeing as you aren't allowed to speak, that would be of ill advice!" He laughed merrily, clapping his hands together. "Anyways, I am the leading architect here at Castle Dunnk and an expert on its design. Of course, it is _ages_ old, so I did not have the pleasure to assist in its construction, but I know as much or more about than the original builders!" He clapped again.

Shanyi and Rugle exchanged glances. Without speaking they were thinking the same thought, and that was that Avak Toda was one eccentric fox.

Avak continued. "Ah, the geography of a castle! So many locations and parts make up only one place! As you may have noticed, Dunnk is very location-oriented! I insisted upon this, actually, and most of the creatures here are not big fans, to be honest, but I like it!" He clapped. Rugle thought he heard one of the guards sigh.

"So many beautiful features in this place. The barbican and the drawbridge are only the beginning. We have parapets, arrow-slit ports, galleries, spires, towers, keeps, wells, baileys, great beautiful halls, spacious throne rooms and eateries, dormers, turrets, spiral staircases, chapels, curtain walls, geminates, windows of all sorts, arches, and gorges, and so much more! It's all splendid really. And not to mention the military functions," Avak said.

Shanyi and Rugle once again exchanged glances, this time glaring. They didn't even want to know what kind of military might this place possessed. They were sure it wouldn't be good for them or any other resistance that might stand up to the vermin.

"Yes, so many wonderful features for you to explore," Avak continued, "But unfortunately you will only be open to see one place—the dungeon."

Avak meandered off through the bailey and the guards ushered the prisoners onward, their poor, tired feet scuffling against the sandy ground.

All of Flint's lieutenants and hordebeasts were slowly drawn away from him, joining in with nobles and lords of the Kingdom of Dunnk to share in some royally spent time that was probably well deserved. Flint admired the courage of the common foot soldier more than the average vermin warlord, for he had once been one until Lanog had noticed his extremely vicious and calculating side and promoted him slowly through the seasons until Flint had become his right hand fox. Flint was gracious for that, but he hated Lanog and nearly every other being in the world. Flint was all for himself in his own mind. He was working on a plot in his head to take over this castle and claim himself King, but it wasn't going to be easy and he would need the support of multiple vermin hordes to do it. He assumed he would be able to get a few of the weaker hordes to throw in their lots with him, but he really needed Bhriina's Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs. They would be the key to victory. He knew Bhriina liked him well enough, but her husband Covodre was not a fan of Flint, and he knew it. He knew Bhriina was probably working on a way to get rid of him, because he also knew she hated him secretly, with a passion. Flint also had connections in the lower ranks of the Cave-Striking Legion, but the leaders greatly disliked the Northern Corsair Alliance as a whole and he doubted that they would follow him. He also doubted to gain any support from pirate groups, because Lanog and Flint had incited a small contained scuffle between the pirates and a large force of powerful northern mercenaries.

Flint's thoughts were distorted when a stately weasel strolled up to him. "Commander Flint, sir, your presence is requested in the King's chambers."

Flint followed the lightly armoured weasel up several spiral staircases and across several patios before reaching the desired room. Located in the centre of the back wall of Castle Dunnk, the King's hall was perhaps the most lavish location in the place. Plush carpets of a deep purple hue lay in the centre of the granite hall. Lit torches coated in gold lined the walls along with prized weapons and pieces of armour. At the far back of the room was an elaborate black throne that loomed over the rest of the hall. As Flint examined it from the distance he was at he noticed that it was entirely made out of bones that had been somehow darkened. Or perhaps they were not the bones of any known beast…

"Ah, Flint!" a voice exclaimed, a voice belonging to King Hrok Saan, the face leader of the Vermin Conglomerate. All but the leaders of the hordes that made up the Conglomerate knew that Saan was just that—a face for the public, nothing more. The true leader was unknown to most, but Flint served him faithfully.

"Greetings, King Saan. You requested me?" Flint said uneasily. He was no good with talking, especially to creatures like this. It was not one of his strong suits, to be sure. However, one of those was murder, so that's probably why they kept him around.

The King laughed. "I certainly did! But I only wanted you to join in with our riveting war conversation! Come on, get over here!" he said happily. Flint thought he might have been intoxicated, but it was hard to tell. Even in that state, he looked like himself. Hrok Saan was a rat that was basically the opposite of your stereotypical rat—he lacked the mangy fur, the putrid odour, the nasty disposition, and nearly everything else. He looked like a mouse, although everybeast knew he was not. They only had mice in Bhriina's Coalition.

Saan was surrounded by his closest advisors and soldiers. Flint hardly recognized any of them. He noticed Knockrock, a rat pirate who led the Cave-Striking Legion. That meant the Legion and their prisoners were already here. Flint kicked himself for not being first. Knockrock was not a fan of Flint just the same as Flint was not a fan of Knockrock. Each had been present during the mercenary—pirate scuffle and on opposing sides. Flint also noticed Yamout, the Commander who had let them into the castle. He also saw many others he had never seen before.

As Flint took his seat, Saan introduced him. "This is Flint, the second-in-command of the Northern Corsair Alliance! We welcome him and his horde to Castle Dunnk."

"Actually, your grace, I am now the leader of the Alliance. Lanog is deceased," Flint said, hoping he hadn't offended Saan but inwardly not really caring.

Saan looked taken aback, but Flint knew it was a front. Surely with the vast network of spies and informants he possessed he already knew of this. Flint didn't doubt that Saan even had spies in his own horde.

"I am sorry to hear this!" the King explained, setting down his goblet on the arm of the immense throne. "Lanog was a good leader. How did he…die?"

Flint wanted to sneer and say "You already know, you fat royal pig!" but he instead went along with the King's question. "He was killed by one of the northern infidels during a battle."

"I am so sorry to hear this," said one of the King's advisors that Flint did not recognize. "Lanog was a good leader and a good asset in this plan."

Flint sneered inwardly. Was that all Lanog meant to them? An _asset_? What did that make him? A liability? But, as he had to, he kept his cool. "I don't believe we've met?" Flint said to the marten, forming the statement as a question.

"We have, although it was brief. I am Commander Usoret, Advisor to the King," he said.

Flint suddenly remembered. He had met Usoret at a very early planning of the Conglomerate, and Usoret had taken a mistress from him. Flint glared but quickly corrected himself. If he disrespected the advisor to the King he would likely be beheaded.

"Ah, yes," Flint said. "I remember now. Greetings, Commander."

"And here we also have Oglek, Commander of the Castle Guard," Saan said, pointing to a lightly armoured fox with a confident air about him. Flint nodded at Oglek politely.

"And here is Knockrock," said the King. "I believe you two are already acquainted?"

Flint pursed his lips. "Certainly." He shot a glance at Knockrock, which the rude rat returned. Unlike Saan, Knockrock _was_ the stereotypical rat: mangy, stinky, and covered in rings and tassels of all sorts.

"Now, Flint," the King said, "We were just discussing current events."

"All of our actions are going according to plan," said Usoret.

"Except," noted Knockrock, "Bhriina's horde. What is she doing? Why isn't she here?"

"Bhriina is at Salamandastron with her horde and prisoners from the Long Patrol. If she does as planned she should leave soon. We have spies in the region that will tell us of the progress, hopefully," said Oglek.

King Saan sighed. "Bhriina's always been unpredictable. Who knows what she will do?"

Flint decided to chip in. "They never should have allowed a mouse into the Conglomerate, that's what I say. The only mouse is the only problem."

That got several nods, but Yamout scooted over to face Flint. "That mouse is as good or a better horde leader than you, fox!" he said, in a hushed but angry tone.

Flint snarled. "And I'm sure both of us are better than you, stoat!"

"Want to bet?" Yamout snarled back.

"SILENCE!" boomed a voice. Flint and Yamout looked to see it came from a massive, armoured guard with a giant black sword who stood at the edge of the room. Flint hadn't even noticed the guard until now, so he must have just come in. He had to have been a wolverine, judging from his awesome size and voice complexion.

"I am to take a 'Flint' from you, King Saan," the guard's deep voice ringing out over the throne room. It was eerie, the way it echoed off the granite walls.

Saan waved Flint on. "Go, Flint, go with Xeb. He is a trusted guard, and I am sure you are needed elsewhere. Castle Dunnk is a big place, after all!"

Flint joined Xeb and they walked not out of the throne room, but into a hall that veered off of it that Flint hadn't noticed before. Tight passages and spiral staircases followed, so eventually Xeb took a lit torch off a wall and used it to help them along.

Eventually Flint grew weary and needed to talk. He nervously began to talk to Xeb. "So…wh….who are you?"

"I am the Protector of Shadows," Xeb said bluntly.

"Are you really Xeb?" Flint asked inquiringly.

Once again without turning, he answered bluntly. "You tell me."

Flint looked at the helmet that masked Xeb/Protector's face. He wanted to see what the 'Protector of Shadows' really looked like, for some odd reason.

Eventually they came to an elaborate door that seemed to be carved from ebony, but it could have been a number of dark woods. Xeb reached to a chain on the side of his armour and removed a rusty key, which he used to slowly open the huge door. Flint could hear the tumblers moving inside the doors until they finally opened, revealing an almost pitch-black room with a few small torches along the walls.

Flint looked back at Xeb, who seemed ready to enter the room. Now was not the time to seem afraid. Flint cautiously stepped into the room. It seemed as if fog would roll into the room at any moment. He wouldn't have been surprised if it were already here. It wasn't out of place.

"Thank you, Protector," rasped a voice from the far end of the room. "Leave us." 

Not only did Xeb leave but a second figure, one Flint could not make out, exited the room. Flint looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

Suddenly the source came forth and stopped near Flint. "Flint," it said.

Flint was struck with realization when he figured out who it was.

It was the Master of Shadows.

Flint immediately bowed to the dark figure. The Master of Shadows was completely clothed in black at all times, masking even his face.

"Rise," the Master commanded. Flint rose. "There is no need for bowing. Bowing is a formality I do not observe. Nobeast bows to me."

Flint shuddered inwardly. The Master was a truly frightening being. Even when he said nothing frightening, Flint was afraid. But he tried not to be. Fright was a weakness. Weakness led to death. Death led to nothing.

"Why have you called me here, Master?" Flint asked.

"To discuss current events," the Master said blandly. Flint stared at the Master. He was truly frightening. Flint couldn't see a face or even eyes behind his menacing black hood, and the drapes of his cloak covered his feet just as the sleeves covered his hands. His species was unknown, his origin a mystery, his motives cloudy. But Flint knew that he was behind it all.

"All is as planned, Master," Flint said, bowing his head before catching himself and lifting it. He wished not to know what became of those who failed or upset this creature.

"Yes," the Master said, drawing out the word, "Except for one piece in the game. Bhriina's horde. They are not on schedule. My spies tell me that she is cooped up in Salamandastron with a meager amount of slaves. I sense something…radical…in her. She is not one to follow orders from anyone. She will keep the slaves for herself and not come to Dunnk. I have foreseen it. That is why, Flint, I have called you here. I want _you _to travel to the mountain of badgers and persuade them to follow the plans—using force where necessary, of course."

Flint was flabbergasted. "Master! This is a wonderful honour! How could I ever express my gratitude to you for this?"

"Bring me Bhriina's head and fifty healthy slaves within the week," the Master said formidably and coldly.

Flint nodded with vigour. "Yes! It will be done, my Master!" He quickly left the room, and Xeb and the other figure, Snovv, reentered. Snovv, the Speaker of Shadows, spoke directly to the Master. Snovv knew the Master better than anybeast, and was his most trusted ally.

"You do realize that Bhriina will destroy him, Master?" he inquired.

The Master started walking—or floating, as it seemed to the eye—towards the back of the room. "It's all part of the plan, Speaker."

And he was gone.

Snovv turned to Xeb. "Send for Jai. A message will be sent to Salamandastron at once." Xeb huffed in his deep voice and turned from the room.

Snovv sat alone with his thoughts on a side bench in the dark. The Master was truly the Master of all. He was using Flint—because he knew Flint would get delusions of grandeur and attempt to overthrow him—and he knew that Bhriina was much smarter than Flint and would never dare. So truly, he was getting rid of Flint, not Bhriina.

But there was one thing pertaining to Bhriina that the Master of Shadows had not foreseen. And that one little thing was about to hurl a pike into his plan.


	18. Chapter 18

Cornflower stood alone before the graveyard of Redwall. A light wind swept and blew at her hood, and chills ran through her bones. She walked slowly over, carefully on tiptoes, to the grave of Matthias, trying not to cry. She could not keep it in. She fell to her knees at the grave, holding the headstone. Matthias had been the only light in her life for many years—Mattimeo had gone off to bigger things, had a child of his own, and Tess was always doing things with them. Matthias, however, never failed to find time for his old Cornflower. He still gave her butterflies in her stomach, up to the day he died. Their romance had never truly died as it did with most couples, especially after children. Matthias was a magical, interesting, inspiring, brave, wonderful mouse—not only as a warrior, but as a person. She never really saw him as a warrior or a hero, just as her old Matthias: cranky in the early mornings, sheepish in the dim of dusk, and always ready to tell one more story.

Tears fell onto the ground where Matthias was buried like April rain. She looked around and realized she had forgotten the shovel, and then remembered the message. 'Take nothing along, you will not need it.' Then what was she to do? She knew the key would be on Matthias himself, because the thing she wished least to do was to look upon him again.

The tears fell again, and she lay there sobbing on her husband's tomb, wispy strands of grey fur blowing in the breeze. Every sad point of Cornflower's life came to her then and she felt nothing but despair and emptiness as she wept. How could things ever get better?

She looked up at the headstone and spoke to it. "I just want things to be normal, like they used to be. I want Matthias, and Mattimeo, and Martin."

Suddenly her husband's image materialized. Cornflower gasped, tears rolling down her face. "Matthias?" she breathed.

"Yes, Cornflower. It is me, once more," he said.

"Well?" Cornflower said, getting angry for no reason all of a sudden.

Matthias chuckled. "Well what?" he said, mockingly.

Cornflower pounded her fists on the ground. "YOU KNOW! THE CLUE! THE STUPID KEY THAT I'VE WASTED THIS WHOLE TIME GETTING TO!"

Again he chuckled. "You spoke it but a moment ago, dear."

She blinked, thinking of what she had said. Nothing came to mind.

"The letter you were missing is R, Cornflower. That's the last letter," Matthias said gently. His warm eyes shone through his body even in death.

Cornflower thought wildly back to the other letters and attempted to scramble them together. She was so distressed and frustrated that nothing came to mind. She screamed in anguish and dropped to her knees again, sobbing. "Oh, Matthias, why can't you just tell me the word? And what will this word even do? How does it have power?"

"It's our grandson, Cornflower," Matthias said.

Everything rushed into Cornflower's mind. Of course! The letters fit together perfectly! The key to unifying Redwall was Martin!

"Matthias, when did you even leave all of those clues?" Cornflower asked, turning towards him. But he was gone.

"Matthias?" she said, tiptoeing around the graveyard. She finally decided he had left, and she stormed after Redwall, finally having flare and purpose.

Cornflower burst into the Abbey. The grounds were filled with dull and solemn-looking creatures. This was nothing at all like the Redwall they had known but a season ago. Then it had been cheerful—everybeast was full of pluck, there were feasts and dancing, and happy faces all around. Now everybeast was dark and depressed. Even Basil and his adopted son Cheek had lost their cheerful attitude.

Pretty much everybeast was there on the grounds other than Tess, whom Cornflower could see in the infirmary that was now half-exposed. Orlando and Auma both seemed fully recovered. Basil was there, as well as Jess and Sam. Cornflower wondered how they had gotten to safety or where they had gone at all.

Suddenly Cornflower realized that everybeast was arguing, now a common practice at Redwall. Basil and Orlando were heated about that, Gaffer and Riverjack were spitting over that, Jube and Sir Harry contemplated pertaining to that. Cornflower stood in the centre of the grounds, every arguing creature surrounding her.

"Martin," she said, quietly, and nobeast heard her over their own yelling voices.

"Martin," she said, a little louder, and still nobeast noticed or cared.

Finally she had had enough. She filled her lungs with air and screamed. "MARTIN!"

Everybeast stopped arguing and looked at Cornflower, confused. Orlando scratched his head with his giant paw. "What are you talking about, Cornflower?"

"They have my grandson, Martin. You all know it. You're just too busy fighting over principle matters that you do not care! The fact that little Martin, one of our own children, is out there being tortured with who-knows-what, held captive, alone, cold, and afraid should be enough to make you people forget your blasted troubles and fight under a common cause—freeing Martin! If it was your child, would you have sat here in your own filth for weeks on end arguing about every little thing and letting them die slowly, or would you have gone out at once to save them? Sometimes I think Mattimeo was the only sane one here. He left! He went to save his son! But don't even try to tell me you would choose to sit here. You wouldn't. You couldn't! We are talking about one of our own little Redwallers, out there, suffering! And for what reason? Because we couldn't sort out our trivial differences? You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Ever since Auma took charge, which, by the way, was not her fault, as she was under the influences of a poison planted by some vermin during the battle, you creatures have acted like madbeasts, running around like buffoons, brewing a civil war! How dare you? This is Redwall's darkest hour, yes, but we only darken it by continuing to fight amongst ourselves. We shouldn't be fighting our neighbours, we should be fighting those filthy vermin who killed my husband and kidnapped my grandson. Now, who wants to join me in taking back Martin?"

Sam and Jess stepped forward from the crowd. "We do!"

Basil perked his ears up for the first time in a long time. "I do!" Cheek stumbled out of the crowd at the same moment and squeaked. "I do!"

The Foremole's team all came forth. "Gurr, we'll join ye, Cornflower!"

The Guosim pushed their way through the crowd. "We're in!"

Jube and the Stump family came forward as well. Jube said nothing but drew his sword and nodded in Cornflower's direction.

Sir Harry and the Warden flew forward with several Sparra including Duelnape and Malar. The Warden cried out. "For the LAAAAAAAAW!"

Sister May pushed her way past several of her fellow mousemaids. "I'll join you, Cornflower! For Martin!" Brother Rufus came with her.

Skipper Riverjack and his otters raised their rapiers. "We fight!"

By this point, all eyes had turned to Orlando and Auma, who stood in silence. Orlando grasped the hilt of his sword and slowly pulled the broad blade from its sheath. He hefted it into the air and shouted. "FOR CONSTANCE!"

Now everybeast in Redwall was cheering and waving their weapons. New life came to the eyes of those whom had been dreary ever since the battle. It seemed as though as soon as Orlando joined the shouting, the clouds rolled away and the sun showed itself for the first time in weeks. Sir Harry and the Warden flew happily through Redwall, cheering and spiraling.

Log-a-Log Flugg approached Cornflower. "No offense, Cornflower, but why didn't you do this sooner?" He laughed. Cornflower only smiled. She for some reason fell into a hug with the shrew, which at first he found awkward but eventually warmed up to it.

Love and happiness, accompanied by pride and the feelings of spirited revenge, were heavily permeating the air in Redwall Abbey for the first time in quite some time.

Martin, not knowing he was being honoured at Redwall, was fast asleep in the cage. Mattimeo always watched his son sleep, because sleep never came for himself. Aeruut seemed to do the same with Starbuck even though the two weren't related.

On nights like these, usually only a few guards were present in the centre of Salamandastron, over which the prisoners hung. Mattimeo had figured they would be transferred into the dungeons along with the Long Patrol, but they had never been touched, and remained hanging lifelessly above the city.

Mattimeo saw a round figure that could only have been Carnlo coming across the courtyard towards the control that let down their cage. He said something to the guard that operated it and the guard yanked on a lever, causing the cage to slowly lower down.

Both Martin and Starbuck arose, startled. Martin blinked. "What's happenin'?"

Mattimeo looked down at Carnlo and shook his head. "I'm not sure, little buddy, but nothing good. Nothing good."

Starbuck yawned. "Should that surprise me?"

The cage hit the floor hard, jarring all of them into a sharper sense of awareness. Carnlo had the guard, a rat, open the door with a special key. Instantly all of the prisoners rushed for the door of the cage only to be threatened back inside by the guard's spear. This was their only chance, and they weren't going to make it. Aeruut shook the cage in anger.

Carnlo smiled wickedly. "I need one of you."

"I will go!" Aeruut said immediately, followed by Mattimeo's "No, take me!"

Carnlo looked as if he was thinking deeply before saying, "No, I need a mouse. I will take Mattimeo for now, but it may have to be your child eventually."

Mattimeo snarled defiantly but got out of the cage, allowing the guard to hold his spear directly behind his back, so that he couldn't escape.

Another guard was ushered over and locked the cage, trying to avoid blows from Aeruut's paws. He also then pulled the lever, and the cage was lifted back up into the dim light of the air above the city.

The guard, Carnlo, and Mattimeo retreated from the courtyard deep into Salamandastron. It seemed as if they were walking for an hour before they came to a room guarded by a thick iron door. The guard took out another key and opened the monolithic door, poking Mattimeo into the room with his spear.

It seemed as if all the room contained was a table, but Mattimeo suspected there were torture devices or some other fiendish things along the dark walls. Mattimeo was instructed to get on the table, which he reluctantly did, trying to lie comfortably on the splintery wood. This was obviously not a table that came from the Halls of Royalty. It was either brought here by the vermin, had been here for uncountable seasons, or was meant just for adding to torture.

"Is there anything else you need, sir?" the guard said, stepping away from the table and standing in front of the door.

Looking away to a box on the floor and fiddling around in it, he called to the guard. "Oh, no, thank you Toadskin! You may return to your post."

The guard turned to leave, and Carnlo whipped around, hurling two knives that came from seemingly nowhere directly at the guard's neck. Both blades went through Toadskin's neck, pinning his body to the door.

Mattimeo's eyes widened. "Why did you do that? You brute!"

Carnlo turned to Mattimeo, smiling with a devilish look that he never would have pictured the Abbot having during his time at Redwall. Then again, he never pictured him as a murderer, kidnapper, spy, or traitor either.

"He needn't know of this. Nobeast should know of this. This is my private dealing, you see. I do not possess the blessing of Bhriina or Covodre to do this. But I am doing it anyway, as you can tell. The fools thought it we were fine, dismissed it! Pah!"

Mattimeo cocked his head. "Dismissed what?"

Carnlo turned to face away from Mattimeo and, in a voice seemingly more monotonous than his normal one, uttered these words:

"Four mice of broken mind

Four mice betrayed their kind

Four mice will lead you now

Four mice to whom you bow."

He turned back, not smiling anymore, and very solemn. "Do you see? Four mice. And how many do we have? Three. They are satisfied with this. Apparently, the prophecy no longer matters. Apparently, the prophecy is trivial. NO LONGER!" he said, suddenly shouting.

He leaned in closer to Mattimeo. "You will be the fourth, my friend."

Mattimeo took the opportunity of Carnlo being near to his face and punched him as hard as possible in the face. Carnlo reeled back, grasping his nose. Mattimeo flew up from the table and searched the impaled guard's body for the key. He patted madly over the guard's light armour, searching desperately for his desired object.

Suddenly Carnlo tackled him out of nowhere, holding a knife to his neck. "Oh, dearie me," he said, with only a hint of sarcasm. "If we're going to do it like this, I think Martin would be a better substitute. After all, the mind of a child is much more easily corrupted."

Mattimeo bit down with all of his force on Carnlo's arm. Carnlo yelped and retracted his appendage, screaming. Mattimeo rushed over to the wall and attempted ripping one of the knives from Toadskin's neck. It took a lot of effort, and by the time he had it out, Carnlo was already back on his feet and running towards him. Mattimeo yelled and rushed at him with knife in paw. Carnlo, being very nimble despite his round form, ducked out of the way. Mattimeo turned just as quickly and chucked the knife at his adversary. It caught the wicked mouse in the lower leg. Carnlo suppressed a scream, leaned down, and ripped the blade from his leg, throwing it down to the ground with a metallic ring and a scraping clatter.

"I suppose," said Carnlo, catching his breath, "That I will have to take your son away again instead. Because obviously you have no grounds for cooperation."

"No!" Mattimeo said. "You will not have my son! I…I will cooperate."

Carnlo breathed heavily before heaving himself up to a standing position. "Then get on the table and don't try to attack me again, you fool!"

Mattimeo unwillingly got on the table and was strapped down violently with belt-like strips of leather to it. Carnlo retrieved another of the belt-like objects from his box and proceeded to strike Mattimeo hard across the face with it.

"That," he said, still trying to breathe, "Was for hitting me in the face."

He hit him again with the belt, harder. "That," he said again, "Was for biting my arm." He hit him with an extreme amount of force and Mattimeo had to hold in a painful shout. "And, finally, that was for implanting a knife into my leg."

Carnlo reached back into the box and brought out a devilish clamp-like object. "You can wear this while I dress my wound. Good luck!" he said, eerily cheerful. He set the object around Mattimeo's head and twisted its handle. The clamps squeezed onto Mattimeo's head, putting pressure on his skull and instantaneously granting him a wretched headache.

Carnlo brought the key up from the floor, to the left of Toadskin. Mattimeo would have hit himself had his hands not have been tethered to the sides of the table, gathering splinters. The key was never on Toadskin's person. It must have fallen out when he died and skittered across the floor into the darkness. Apparently, Carnlo was more observant than he.

As soon as Carnlo left the room, Mattimeo began squirming around, trying to undo the tethers. This was, of course, to no avail, and he began wondering if anything could possibly go right. His head pounded and he had to hold in whimpers.

Sooner than Mattimeo was anticipating, Carnlo returned with bandages wrapped around his leg where the knife had entered. His face was grim and frowning. Mattimeo noted mentally that he was very emotionally unstable. One moment, he was a sadistically, creepily, chillingly happy creature and the next he was seriously cynical.

"Four mice of broken mind," he said coldly, looking to Mattimeo after his statement. "I suppose it would only be logical to first break your mind."

Mattimeo gulped as Carnlo dug his paws into his box of torture devices and pulled out a many-bladed contraption and walked towards the table threateningly.

Jai the raven was flying speedily and yet gracefully across the country that surrounded Salamandstron, carrying in his talons an official scroll from King Hrok Saan, addressed to Bhriina alone. Jai was unlike many of his raven brethren in that he was refined, cunning, educated, calculating, and a very refined killer when that was needed. Officially, he served as Messenger of the King of Dunnk, but he was secretly an assassin. Yes, he carried messages, as he was doing now, but if Saan needed somebeast dead, he usually looked to Jai first. His methods of silent and low flight made him a deadly cutthroat in the sense that nobeast ever saw him coming. Most birds of his size flew proudly, high up in the sky, but not Jai. Flying high as a messenger got you shot down. It got you seen. It got you dead. It could even get you fired, and Jai would dislike that very much, considering his substantial payroll and high-up position in Saan's court and the Conglomerate as a whole.

Jai had met Bhriina once before, albeit brief, and he knew she was just as dangerous as he. Despite the slander that was betrothed to her as a mouse in a vermin cartel, she seemed ten times as competent as most Conglomerate members and twice as intelligent. Jai figured that Bhriina would have plans of her own at this point. With intelligence came power, and with power came the mental need to be better than your employer. Jai was much more intelligent that Saan, and he had suspected for quite some time that he was not the true leader but just a public face. He supposed others knew this as well, but most denizens of Castle Dunnk were blind to what went on behind closed doors. Jai himself, however smarter than Saan, saw no reason to betray him. He was in it for the supplies and monetary funds that he received. Money was of little concern in most of the south and a lot of the north, where bartering and trading dominated, but in the little-known far eastern desert region, supplies had to be imported, so naturally they were bought with physical cash instead of traded for things that the easterners did not possess. However, if Bhriina did have a tempting offer for him, Jai supposed he could be tempted to sign on with the Coarc. He doubted she had anything of worth, however, and he did not wish to be anywhere on Hrok Saan's hit list. As one of his former assassins, Saan would be extremely anxious to find and eliminate Jai if he were to go over to Bhriina's side.

Quite a ways ago, Jai had spotted a ferret that was still many meters ahead. He knew the ferret hadn't spotted him, however. Just the sight of him had seemed dimwitted. The ferret was obviously not observant enough to see the elusive Jai on one of his runs. Soon enough, however, the ferret and the raven would have to meet.

It happened soon after Jai had the thought, in an extremely small clearing in a comparatively small copse of trees. The ferret, bumbling through the woods, crashed through a patch of undergrowth and into the clearing to find Jai standing menacingly in the centre of it.

"Hello," Jai said seductively. "Who might you be?"

The ferret gulped. "Wrinklump, sir. A messenger for the Coarc, a vermin horde."

Jai gave a weak chuckle. "I know what the Coarc is, and I know who leads it. I also know that it is running behind schedule. That is why I am headed to the mountain now—I am a messenger of King Hrok Saan of the Kingdom of Dunnk," he said smugly. He figured he may as well make Wrinklump think he was significant.

"I'm heading to a contact just east of here," Wrinklump said. "From there on, a string of messengers will deliver this to your master."

Jai looked at the puny ferret. His master? Wrinklump was really starting to annoy him. This was the gross kind of filth he did not care to consort with.

"Ah. Can I see it?" Jai asked politely.

Wrinklump thought about it for a moment before pulling back the slip of paper he held. "I shouldn't," he said. "Nobeast is supposed to see it, 'cept for my contact."

"It's alright. In fact, I can take it off your paws! I'm headed right back to the castle anyway! It'd sure save the Coarc a lot of time and trouble," Jai suggested.

Wrinklump looked at the slip of paper. "That sounds reasonable…" he said, voice trailing out slowly. He suddenly put the paper in the pocket of his shirt. "I can't. It's against orders."

"Ah. I see. Oh well. It's your loss," Jai said.

Wrinklump prepared himself to move on. "I suppose it is. But I have orders."

Jai sighed. "Well, so do I, Wrinklump." Jai suddenly flew into action, talons outstretched. In a matter of seconds, Wrinklump's head and half of his neck lay several feet away, spilling blood onto the leaf litter that covered the ground. Jai ripped the shirt off of the ferret's corpse and removed the note from the pocket. He read it carefully.

To the eyes of King Hrok Saan only:

We regret to inform you that we run slightly behind schedule, but we should be in the Kingdom of Dunnk faster than you can say slave labour.

Speaking of slave labour, we have recently amassed a large amount of prisoners. The purpose of this letter is to ask if you could send Flint to assist us in dealing with them and getting them to you.

~Bhriina and Covodre

That couldn't be it. This was what Saan already knew. That was why Jai was here. Although Bhriina's asking for Flint was new to Jai. That was unexpected. Suddenly his avian eye caught a small fold in the paper, and Jai carefully extracted a strip of parchment paper that had been hid inside the fake letter. He read it as well.

This paper shall be treated as an official document of the Vermin Conglomerate and it declares the official resignation of the Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs from the Conglomerate. This dictates that the Coalition no longer recognizes King Hrok Saan as their head of state. The Coalition declares that its activities are personal endeavours and not those of another party. We shall not go out of our way to attack any other vassals of the Conglomerate, but should the Conglomerate or any of its subsidiaries attempt to attack us, you must understand that we will fight back. This resignation is nothing personal.

It's all just part of the game.

~Bhriina

But something was wrong with it.

Jai had seen Bhriina's handwriting and Covodre's handwriting before on a document. In fact, the letter asking for Flint's services was written by Bhriina, without a doubt.

The resignation was not written by either of them.


	19. Chapter 19

Avak Toda pushed open the doors that led into the dungeon with much effort. None of the prisoners even attempted to help him. They were resentful of every single member of the entire Vermin Conglomerate at this point, Toda included. And now they were in the dankest, darkest, loneliest place in Castle Dunnk.

"Okay now," Toda said happily, "Two to a cell. They're all the same, don't fight over them. Let's see, one and two in here, three and four in here…"

Shanyi sighed. "This isn't what I pictured would happen when we came to the south, Rugle. What happened to saving monks?"

Rugle smiled at his friend. "Hey, it's still a bet! You never know what could happen! Hah! I would bet that when we get out of here the first creature we save will be a monk."

Shanyi stared into the distance. "I don't think we'll be getting out of here, Rugle."

Rugle was about to answer when his ripped collar was yanked on by Toda. "Prisoners twenty-six and twenty-seven, in here!" He lightly shoved Rugle into his cell, which Shanyi was just entering as well.

Shanyi scratched his chin. "I suppose we may have spaced out a bit?" he said, forming it as a question for Rugle.

"I suppose so," Rugle said, somehow finding the will to chuckle a little.

When all of the prisoners had been shown to their cells, Toda skipped to the centre of their dungeon row, addressing all of the prisoners on either side of him. "You will be staying here for the time being. How long is that time? Being."

Rugle and Shanyi looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They were quite tired of Toda and his personality.

"Actually, prisoners, I'm going to let you in on some top secret information. I have no idea how long you'll be here, because they don't tell me anything. You may sit here until you rot, but I'd put a wager on being sent out to work. You're hardy northerners, aren't you? You'll make good workers. Northerners are tough!"

Toda turned to leave, and whispered to himself. "I was one once."

He briskly left the dungeon.

Rugle sat back against the wall of their cell. "What kind of work do you think they'll have us doing, Shanyi?"

Shanyi shrugged, not bothering to glance in Rugle's direction. "Hard work."

"We can take it," Rugle said reassuringly.

"I can't," Shanyi whispered to himself, a tear rolling slowly down his face and dripping onto the dirty, dark floor of the lowest layer of Castle Dunnk.

Bhriina was alone in her room when Reginlim Greeneyes, the noble wildcat, came knocking at her door. "A messenger is here for you, Milady!" he said.

"I'll be out in a second!" Bhriina said with a bite in her tone. She was having pain in her abdomen and it was turning her mood south. It had started that morning and hadn't ceased yet.

She burst through the door angrily and stomped to the meeting room, where Covodre waited with a raven that held a small scroll.

"Who's this?" she said, sizing up the raven nonchalantly.

Covodre smiled, looking to the raven. "This is Jai, a messenger of King Saan."

Bhriina rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. We're running late! Oh no! As if we didn't already know this? I know! We're waiting for that blasted Flint to get here!"

Jai spoke. "My message is, in fact, pertaining to your lateness. But that will soon be resolved, because I am also here to inform you that Flint is leaving Castle Dunnk with a party as we speak and is headed for Salamandastron. He will take the slaves to Dunnk and you can accompany him there, or, if you have very pressing matters, can come soon after that. I am also to inform you that if you do not comply, your slaves will be taken with force."

Bhriina laughed a single, weak laugh. "With force? Why would that be necessary? Do you think I have use for those worms? That's what a horde is for! They're holed up in the dungeon at the moment, other than those ones," she said, pointing out of the open room to the visible cage that hung from the ceiling of the mountain.

"Are those slaves of any special importance?" Jai asked.

Bhriina was clever. She did not want to reveal anything about possessing Matthias the Warrior and his son. "Nothing special. We captured them earlier. The only survivors of a failed attempt at a battle."

"Only three survivors, huh?" Jai asked. "You must be merciless. I admire that, Milady."

She smiled. At least this raven was not as high and mighty as most of the Dunnk residents. He had the sense to call her "Milady." Then something hit her. Three prisoners. Three. There weren't three. There were four.

"Three prisoners?" she said inquiringly. "There are four, I believe."

Jai peered out of the room. "I'm fairly certain that there are only three. I only saw three when I flew in, and I see three now. A little mouse, a young hare, and an adult hare."

Bhriina briskly paced to the balcony and stared intently at the cage. The raven was right. There were only three bodies in the cage.

"Where…is…the FOURTH?" Bhriina seethed. "COVODRE, ORDER A SEARCH IMMEDIATELY! FIND THAT PRISONER!"

Reginlim, who was still in the room, was waved off by Covodre and scrambled away to throw together a search party to find the missing mouse.

Bhriina peered down to see the guard standing in front of the lowering mechanism for the cage. "AND PUT ALL OF THE PRISONERS AS WELL AS THEIR GUARD IN INTERROGATION! THEY SURELY KNOW SOMETHING!"

Neither Jai nor Covodre seemed taken aback by her shouting. She must have lost some of her menace lately. She needed to keep that up.

"I have another thing, as well," said Jai. "I found this, and it doesn't appear to be in either of your handwriting, even though it is signed as Bhriina."

Bhriina rushed back to the raven and snatched the paper. "WHAT?"

"It's a document claiming your resignation from the Conglomerate. I did not recognize it as your handwriting, as the cover letter is in it," Jai explained.

"Resign from the Conglomerate? What?" Bhriina said, dumbfounded, reading over the letter and not being able to decide whose writing it was.

Covodre was shocked. "Why would we do that? I'm not stupid! Hrok would have me pinned down and my horde slaughtered if we did this!"

Bhriina noticed he said it was 'his' horde, and said that 'he' would be pinned down. She could tell it was starting. He was assuming mental control over the Coarc. But she did not recognize this aloud, for the pressing matter was their false resignation.

"Find out who did this at once," she seethed quietly to Covodre.

"Why cannot you figure it out?" Covodre asked, trying not to seem rude.

Bhriina shot a disgusted glance at him. It was really happening now. He thought he was better than her. He thought he ruled the horde. Fool, she thought. What a fool.

Suddenly Bhriina had a sharp pain in her stomach area again and doubled over. Covodre rushed to her side but she pushed him away.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing!" she breathed angrily. "I must have just eaten something bad!"

Covodre frowned. "Perhaps you should go to the medical centre."

Bhriina felt no desire to comply, but she found herself departing to the medical centre immediately. The pain was too great to bear at this point. She burst into the room and promptly fell over, wheezing and heaving herself.

Ssarr and Raginthia, the two nurses of the Coarc, rushed to their leader at once and got her onto a bed. Ssarr was a snake from the Toadlands who was once the medicine woman of her tribe, and Raginthia was a wildcat and professional nurse from Reginlim Greeneyes' clan. Both individuals were of kinder heart than most of the nonmilitary Coarc staff.

"What's wrong with me?" Bhriina rasped, grasping her midsection once more, painfully.

Ssarr ran her sensitive tail along Bhriina's stomach and nodded to Raginthia, who broke the news. "Well, Milady, you appear to be pregnant."

A thousand thoughts rushed through Bhriina's head; the first being _How did this happen? When did this happen?_ But that struck her soon enough. It had happened on the night when she had attempted to murder Covodre. The next was _Why did I not realize this earlier?_ She speculated back and realized that it was obvious. She had just denied it mentally when she was feeling pain in her stomach and her midsection was swelling. She had given herself false reasons, like eating too much, or consuming something funny, but deep down she had always known.

"The baby will be here very ssssoon!" exclaimed Ssar.

A motherly instinct washed over Bhriina. She forgot about every horrible thing, every dastardly deed, and every vile crime she had ever committed and devoted all of her thought to her unborn child. She forgot about the Coarc, she forgot about the Conglomerate, she forgot about Covodre, and the even forgot about her own ambitions. Nothing mattered anymore. Her only goal now was to get her child away from this place. Nobeast was to know of the baby, for she would be pursued madly and brought back. Bhriina was not interested in saving or redeeming her own life; all she cared about was getting her baby away from the Conglomerate. She would take the child somewhere safe and leave it there. She would not have her offspring brought up under the abusive environment of a vermin horde, and, most importantly, above all, she had to get this child away from Covodre. That was all that mattered. This child would not know Covodre; Covodre would not know this child. Bhriina would not know this child either, for it would certainly wonder about her past, and Bhriina could not afford to reveal her dark past to an innocent child. Bhriina had no plans of where to take the child yet, but it would be somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by the dark claws of evil. Bhriina did not deny that she had done evil things, and was not above doing more still, but by the Master this child would not know evil.

"Won't it be a joy to announce the birth of Bhriina and Covodre's child?" Raginthia gossiped, to Ssar alone. They were preparing medical equipment not far away.

_There was a problem_, Bhriina thought. _If I escape, these fools will go yelling it to everyone that I escaped with an unborn child. _

Bhriina looked to the table on her left, where they had placed her dagger. She snatched it quickly, trying to hush any noise that came from it. They didn't notice as they tended to the primitive child birthing equipment. Bhriina stared, disgusted, at the contraptions. They looked like large, mechanical spiders and other horrific apparitions. She was not going to have her baby extracted with _that_. She would give birth to her child naturally.

Careful as not to make noise, Bhriina painfully sat up, having to clutch her stomach again. The pain was unbearable. But she found the energy and charisma to stand up, and she stamped towards Ssar as fast as possible, using her sharpened blade to easily cleave off the snake's head and then some. Bhriina was on Raginthia before the wildcat even had a chance to scream, and she left the bodies of two nurses bleeding on the floor.

As she painfully heaved herself away from the corpses, she paused and looked back at what she had done. _Those are the last two creatures I am ever going to kill_, she thought. _For the baby_. Then she pictured Covodre's face. _Well, maybe not the very last. _

Bhriina emerged from the room and peered around. Nobeast seemed to be around, and for a second she wondered why. She quickly remembered it was because every guard in the city was looking for the escaped prisoner, who she reasoned was Mattimeo due to the presence of the other three up in the cage.

Quietly and with much haste Bhriina stole through the back passages of Salamandastron, where many items were stored and the armoury was located. She stopped briskly when, at the end of the armoury, two creatures stood conferring. She peered around the barrel that she had chosen to hide behind and saw Blackclaw and Stumpwhisker, the catapult builders, comparing pieces of lumber, no doubt for the construction of additional catapults.

At first, Bhriina figured that it would do to simply wait it out behind the barrel until the two rats left, but after five minutes they showed no sign of leaving, and she was having intense pain and contractions. She decided upon a brash move and called out in a deep voice that could probably have been more convincing.

"THE PRISONER! I'VE FOUND THE PRISONER! COME TO THE AXE STORAGE CLOSET AT ONCE! THE PRISONER! I'VE FOUND THE PRISONER!"

The two stupid rats looked at each other and bumbled off out of the armoury. Bhriina couldn't help but let out a small giggle. The voice she had let out was horribly unconvincing, and she knew of no axe storage closet. She doubted there was one. The idiotic rats hadn't a clue.

She continued through the rest of the armoury until she came to another passage. It was a very wide passage, and the walls were adorned with many paintings of past badger lords and other decorations. Unlit torches hung on the walls, and they did not belong to the Coarc. Apparently nobeast had bothered to come back here. With stunning realization Bhriina figured that this was the backside of the main passage, a square that surrounded the fortress. They had closed off the entrances to the back portion not long after arriving at Salamandastron, for unknown reasons. Bhriina decided to go left, and when she reached what she assumed was the centre of the passage, she was pleased to find the back entrance to the fortress. Nowhere near as lavish or wide-open as the famed front entrance, and without many terraces and balconies, the back entrance was seldom used and the door was nearly rusted shut. Bhriina managed, despite much pain, to push it open, and she clumsily teetered out of the mountain, almost falling down the cascading ribbon of steps that led to the ground outside.

Once Bhriina was at the bottom, she looked back at the mountain for a second. Armed vermin raced through the visible windows and balconies, no doubt searching madly for the escaped prisoner. And for the first time, she realized something. She didn't care. She didn't give a care in the world. Salamandastron could explode in a burst of lava, and she wouldn't care. She didn't care what happened to the Coarc. They could all burn for all she cared. All Bhriina cared about was herself and her child at this point. Nothing else really ever mattered anywhere. Sure, she had wanted revenge on Redwall, she had had a plan, she had faithfully served the Master of Shadows. She had put up with her husband to get what she wanted, she had plotted carefully and laid waste to Redwall Abbey, she had taken a fortress for herself and made an army. But for the first time she found herself wondering why. What was the point? Why go to the trouble? It's not like she really needed an army anyway. She could get what she wanted all by herself. Sure, having an army had perks, and you could get anything with a certain amount of force. You had extensible resources and devoted (and less-devoted) followers. But what for? To control some silly old mountain or kill some silly old Redwallers? Bhriina realized then that she had been wasting her time. She had been a puppet of the Master and King Saan the whole time, constantly following secret orders from the former and bickering over letter with the latter. She was only a cog in the wheel of what was the Conglomerate. And quite frankly, she was done with being told what to do. She would never follow another order from anybeast again. Not the Master, not Saan, not Carnlo, and especially not Covodre.

She looked back at the mountain one last time, as she had walked a few steps in this time and was almost into the forest, and thought. What was this change of heart? Why was she leaving? Was this all because of the baby? No, she told herself. This needed to happen long ago. The baby only gave her the courage to do it, because she would never, ever let Covodre touch their child. Not even for a second. She'd spit upon anybeast who said otherwise.

And as she looked back into the sunshine that hung over Salamandastron, she unstrapped her dagger, and let it fall from her paw into the soft grass.

And she never looked back.

Rugle and Shanyi awoke to the obnoxious and repeated banging of a metal spoon on a metal pot. Neither had slept well and both were still weary. It also seemed as if they had only been in their cells for a short time, but they knew better. It was probably early morning, and they had slept longer than expected.

The other prisoners awoke as well, to see the source of the banging ignite an extremely bright torch that bathed the room in light and finally put an end to the ominous darkness. Before them stood a black-pelted fox, who seemed dismal. He obviously did not like this job and did not want to be anywhere near the dungeon. One could tell this with a simple glance at his facial expression and the way he carried himself.

"Greetings," the fox said, in a voice as dismal and monotonous as his appearance. "I am Corporal Parsell Kursteh, blah, blah, blah. Today you will be working with the other prisoners out in the pits. You will be clearing out waste and trash from the pit so that we can go and fill the damn thing back up again. Yippee." He spoke with hints of both boredom and sarcasm. Rugle and Shanyi smiled to each other. At least not everyone in Dunnk was serious and dedicated.

Corporal Parsell unlocked every cell and then shackled every prisoner, a steady and repetitive process. When he had finished, he opened the prison door and sarcastically ushered them out. "Have fun."

Four armoured guards with lances fell in alongside the prisoners and escorted them through several of lower Dunnk's hallways and up several sets of flat, nondescript stairs, nothing at all like the elaborate spiral staircases that were part of the upper castle. Eventually they emerged into the outside world, and the prisoners expected the light of day to welcome them from their heinous prison, only to find more darkness.

Noting the prisoners' dismayed and confused looks as they peered into the sky, one of the dark-furred weasel guards nudged another, chuckling lightly. "Hah, they thought it'd be day, Ricu!" The other guard, also a weasel of dark fur, laughed softly as well. "No, prisoners," he said, addressing the group, "you start work at the fourth our past midnight every day! Get used to it and have the time of your pathetic little life! Come on, then, Naroa, let's get a bite to eat."

The two weasels departed, and the other two guards, a slender water rat and an ermine, with them. These guards did not wear the all-black extremely heavy and metallic-looking armour of the ever-silent, hulking guards that the prisoners had also seen. They also wielded pikes, while the less-armoured guards held lances. Nobeast knew the species of the hulking guards, as their helmets masked their faces completely, but the lesser guards could easily be identified. The lesser guards also were not opposed to speech, while the hulking guards never seemed to speak a word. They could hardly be more different, and Rugle imagined that both were deadly in battle: one could use brute force, and the other quick agility.

The shackled prisoners now stood along the north wall of the lower bailey with nobeast watching them. Every creature around (and that wasn't many, for at the fourth hour past midnight who is truly up and about?) seemed to be on an important errand and nobeast took notice of the dirty huddle of northerners.

This ended as an unarmed and unarmoured rat of voluptuous size, wearing a tough-looking hide-like shirt and boots, strolled up to them. "NCA prisoners?" he asked, sporting a husky yet gentle tone of voice.

Some of the prisoners nodded, others said "yes" weakly. The rat nodded, seeming to shake his entire round body. For round it was, not full of unsightly rolls like some obese creatures, but perfectly (imperfectly, rather) round.

"I bet'cha you're all wonderin' who I am!" the rat said. "Well, I ain't gonna mess with none of those fancy titles or whatnot, because my name's Sesi, n' that's that!"

Rugle and Shanyi once again shot each other weak smiles. They had been hoping they wouldn't have to deal with another uptight official. While Castle Dunnk seemed to be crawling with them, they had discovered a few souls who were not so.

"I run th' prisoner labour here. I got me three rules!" Sesi continued. "One! No yellin', ever! Can't stand yellin', can't stand it! Whisper if ya' gotta! Low voices, now!"

Rugle and Shanyi were both taking a strange liking to this portly rat, although both also knew that they shouldn't, because as the creature in charge of slave labour, he couldn't be good news for anybeast. However, his manner of speech was friendlier and much less threatening than most they had encountered in the castle. He seemed as if he didn't care for Dunnk's rules and bureaucracy, and he seemed fair enough so far. They also noted that he seemed older than most of the castle's residents, and lacked their snobby air.

"Two! No cheatin', never!" After this got some confused looks, Sesi explained. "Cheatin' is breakin' things on purpose, workin' slower than ya' can, and havin' yer friends do it for ya! None o' that foolery, or yer back to yer cell, understand?"

The crowd nodded weakly and he continued. "Three!" Here he hushed his tone and held a hand to the side of his mouth as if wanting not to be heard by some invisible foe. "Er, just try ta' avoid Dwile if ya' can."

Shanyi shot Rugle a glance that said "Who's Dwile?" and Rugle shrugged. Whoever this Dwile was, he certainly couldn't be a good thing if even their slaving director advised awareness.

Sesi led them out of the castle and along the edges of it to a large, dirty area behind the castle that spanned at least an acre and was hidden from view entirely by the castle itself. This area seemed to forget it was in a desert and was muddy, filthy, and muggy.

"This here's th' pit!" Sesi said happily. "Or at least that's wot I call 'er!"

Grungy, bloodied slaves of nearly every non-vermin species toiled away in the pit: mice, otters, shrews, voles, hares, hedgehogs, squirrels, badgers, moles, birds, and even bats. The latter two flew things from place to place, flapping their torn, bedraggled wings with all their energy.

Suddenly, a creature a pelt as black as the darkest ink that carried itself with a regal air and had a longsword strapped on his belt. Rugle realized as the creature drew nearer that it was a stoat. This was highly unusual, for most of the time a stoat's fur is as white as winter's first snow. This stoat was the exact opposite, and it was quite stunning.

"Dwile!" Sesi exclaimed, scrambling to hide behind the huddle of northerners. Rugle couldn't help but chuckle. This was silenced and soon as Dwile arrived in front of the group.

Dwile ominously stared down upon the prisoners, glancing from one to the next with an intense stare that would have cut through Floret steel. Scratch that, thought Rugle as the stoat peered at him, an intense stare that would have cut through Castle Floret itself. Or perhaps even all of Southsward.

After he had examined the crowd, Dwile pulled out his longsword and threw down a small piece of steel to rest its tip on. _What a laugh, _Rugle thought. _Bureaucratic little stoat can't get his ceremonial sword blade in the dirt. _

"I am General Dwile….as you have likely been informed by this swine," said the stoat, pointing his sword in the direction of a supposedly hidden Sesi. Dwile's voice was silky but also steely and cold. It was very threatening and commanding, to say the least.

"Somehow, gods alone know, that rat you just spoke with is in charge of the pit instead of me. I am his second-in-command, but it is me you should all fear. I run this place, not Sesi. Understood?"

The prisoners nodded. "Good," he continued. "I want no talking, no playing, no slacking, and nothing else of any sort that could get you into trouble, because believe me, I _will _know about it. I have ways that you can't even comprehend, and you will be sorry."

Rugle sighed. This was one annoying stoat. His threatening words were having no affect on Shanyi either, but as Rugle glanced around out the corners of his eyes, a few of the other northerners seemed afraid.

Rugle's attention was drawn away from that as Dwile continued his speech. "Mess up, and you'll have to deal with that beast over there," he said, pointing to a ragged, evil-looking rat who held a spiked whip. The northerners painfully watched while the rat whipped a small mouse over and over again, for seemingly no reason.

"He's Fleatoe, and he whips for the fun of it, so I wouldn't try him. If, however, you do something that violates a rule here in the pit, it will be me who personally whips you. Now, as for what you'll be doing today, you will be clearing out trash and debris from the centre indentation there, see?" he said, motioning towards a small trench in the middle of the area.

"Any questions?" he asked, giving an inflection that said he wanted no questions.

Nobeast dared to ask a question, and they were off. They walked slowly towards the trench, uncertain and weary, slowly peeking over the edge. That was when Rugle noticed the rat stomping silently towards them. He nudged Shanyi. "Fleabag's coming!" 

Shanyi almost doubled over in suppressed giggling. "It's Fleatoe, Rugle!" he whispered, with much mirth.

Rugle couldn't help laughing. "Fleabag, Fleatoe, all the same!"

Their laughter was cut short as Fleatoe approached the group, whip in hand. Without hesitation, he leapt across the trench and brought his whip down upon Rugle. Burning pain shot through Rugle's side, stinging him all over. As the rat brought it down again, Rugle tried vainly to get out of the way, to no avail. The whip was brought down again, this time its spikes digging into Rugle's flesh. Rugle's already weak and battered body could barely withstand this. A few more blows and he was dead for sure.

"Stop!" came a voice. Shanyi, Rugle hazily recognized. His fool of a friend! Now he would be whipped! Fool!

Fleatoe looked up from his work at the skinny hedgehog, who had once been portly and jolly and was now thin and blazing with defiance. The dirty rat stormed over to Shanyi. "What was that, _slave_?"

"I _said_, stop! Can't you see you're hurting him, Fleabag?"

Rugle was shocked. Shanyi was definitely not dull enough in the head to be doing this right now. He figured that it _had _to be out of defiance and not sheer stupidity. And even though he lie on the muddy ground, bleeding and in pain, using a tin can to elevate his head, he could hardly help but chuckle inwardly at Shanyi's "fleabag" comment.

Fleatoe raised his whip high, ready to strike, but instead, to Shanyi's surprise and Rugle's, he picked Shanyi up with brute strength and shoved him hard against a large piece of wood that was sticking out of the ground.

While still holding the hedgehog to the wood, which looked very splintery but luckily that wouldn't faze Shanyi due to his spines, Fleabag pulled out a knife and held it to Shanyi's chin. "The name's Fleatoe," he said, poking the knife just enough through the flesh to drip blood out and cause some pain.

All of a sudden, Fleatoe threw Shanyi down to the ground as hard as possible and walked back to the front of the group. "And hurting creatures is my occupation," he said with a sly smile, before returning to his former place across the pit, perched up on a rock and staring down upon the slaves of the pit.

Rugle and a mole named Sants moved to help Shanyi up while the other prisoners moved into the trench and began hefting debris of all sorts from it.

"Hoi, I think he's hurt real bad, zurr Rugle," Sants said sadly.

Shanyi lifted his head weakly but with effort. "I'm fine. Just go on. They'll hurt you too."

Rugle looked up to see an elderly mouse wearing what were once robes looming above them, watching Shanyi closely.

"I can heal him," the mouse said.

"Please!" Rugle said, looking down at his broken friend.

"We can heal you all," the mouse said.

"When? Where?" Rugle asked.

"There. Tonight," the mouse said, pointing towards a large structure in the corner of the pit that Rugle hadn't even really noticed until now. Perfectly round or at least ovular, the building was essentially a cylinder with several windows, out of which hung dirty, tattered awnings. Most were covered with a piece of cloth or blanket or towel if no awning was present.

Rugle nodded, and the mouse went away. Then he glanced towards Fleatoe, who was too busy trying to hit a bat out of the air with his whip to notice the forbidden conversation.

As Rugle mindlessly tossed chunks of stone from the small ravine, he wondered and fretted about the mouse's proposal. His biggest concern was getting to the meeting place. How would he manage to sneak out with several companions when their cells were locked and guards lurked around every corner? It would take a miracle to make it all the way to the mouse's building without getting stopped, beaten, or even killed. The thought of getting not only himself but his innocent comrades killed on a whim of possible healing made Rugle sick to his stomach.

All day the northerners toiled away, for seemingly no purpose at all. The debris was not getting in the way of anything, and when they were almost done clearing out a section, a group of vermin came and dumped more in. Rugle wanted to bite his own ears off at that point. It was extremely aggravating to realize that their work was little more than a means of keeping them occupied and sane and a way to keep them breathing fresh air.

The northerners chose mostly to keep to themselves and rarely interacted with prisoners of other groups, although the others seemed fairly integrated. Rugle couldn't help wondering where they had come from, or how they had become prisoners. Probably in a similar way to their own capture, he mused. Then again, a few of the groups didn't seem the warrior type, and it was likely they simply had their homes looted and their families stolen.

Rugle also wondered when work would stop and they would return to their cells. Judging by the time they had been forced awake to begin, he guessed that it would be much later than preferred by the slaves. Sunset came soon enough, and the vermin assigned to the pit showed no signs of ending the day. So they continued to haul things at least an hour into the darkness, until it got so dark that nobeast could see farther than just across the ditch.

After what seemed like ages, Sesi and General Dwile came forth from their command structure and ordered work to cease. The prisoners were gathered up by Fleatoe, who of course took the pleasure of whipping a few into place, and addressed by Dwile.

"Attention! Attention!" he called out, using a louder voice than Rugle had yet heard from him. Usually Dwile used a softer, more seductive tone. The rustling of footpaws and even the beat of wings seemed to cease within seconds of the order.

"I speak now directly to the NCA prisoners," Dwile said, catching Rugle's attention. He looked around for Shanyi but could not find him in the dark. In fact, Rugle was surrounded by strangers until he spotted Sants a few creatures away.

"A new batch of slaves has been rounded up on the fringes of Southsward, and to make room for them, you will be moving into the slave compound," he said, pointing towards the cylindrical building noted by the mouse earlier. "The new prisoners will be taking your cells, and you will not have cells in your new home, so you are being trusted to be contained."

Rugle couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was the perfect chance. The gods must have heard his prayer, because the opportunity he was hoping for had come. They now had no need to sneak out of the dungeon, because they would already be in the place they needed to go!

"It will be cramped and dank in there, rest assured," Dwile continued, "And you will hate it, perhaps just as much as your cold, dark cells."

Rugle chuckled inwardly. This was obviously going to be better. They had the companionship of other creatures now. Although Rugle doubted that they would be left unguarded. It seemed like Castle Dunnk had guards to spare for anything.

"Dismissed!" Dwile shouted in his alternate voice. The prisoners were kicked and whipped harshly back into the slave compound, and when all were inside, the doors were slammed and locked tightly. Rugle smiled when he found that no guards were inside.

The mouse from that morning instantly sought Rugle out and touched his shoulder. "You and your friends, come here. We shall treat you now."

Rugle motioned for Shanyi, who was now in view in the relatively brightly lit compound (torches hung nearly everywhere and hardly a place was pitch black), along with Sants and several other northerners to follow him. They were taken to an area at the rear of the building, where they lied down on sheets stretched over sticks that probably served as both beds and stretchers. Not comfortable, but better than nothing.

Rugle looked around at the rest of the round building in awe. Hundreds of prisoners had their spots set up cozily on ledges protruding from the walls, chatting openly with their neighbors. The bats clung to the ceiling of the structure, while the birds had made nests in the highest places they could find.

"I find it surprising there are no guards here," Sants commented, to no one in particular, but the young female mouse treating a gash in his arm responded. "They don't care enough to post guards here, friend."

"What about Dwile? Or Fleatoe? Aren't they still prowling out there?" Rugle asked.

"Oh, no," the elder mouse said. "Dwile is a General, for heaven's sake. He takes up residence in the castle, as well as Sesi."

"How 'bout Fleatoe?" Sants asked.

"Nobeast knows where that haunt travels to in the night, but we keep wary. He could be anywhere, really. Probably beating some infants somewhere," said a male mouse a slight bit older than the female with a smirk.

The elderly mouse looked up from Rugle's wounds coldly. "Do you think it's a joke, Quorin? Beating infants? Do you think that's funny?"

The younger mouse, whose name was apparently Quorin, looked downcast and mumbled. "No, father." And then quieter: "It was but a jest."

The elderly mouse, Quorin's father, apparently noticed the latter comment. "Jests are not of the sort that you think, young one."

"Pardon, but may I ask who you are?" Rugle said to the father.

"You may," the mouse said, "And I am Conndugan, caretaker of Noonvale. This is my son, Quorin, and my daughter, Dornet."

"Noonvale? I thought Noonvale was a place of peace," Rugle said, confused.

Conndugan uttered what may have been a half-hearted chuckle. "It is. Or was. Do you truly think that would stop these beasts from pillaging the whole settlement?"

"I suppose not," Rugle said sullenly.

Conndugan was about to reply when the sound of a drum being beat rang out. Everybeast grew active then, and a lot of prisoners moved down to the floor of the structure and gathered in a circle around the centre.

Conndugan and his children finished up with their work on the northerners and headed to the centre along with most of the others nearby.

Rugle and Sants shared a glance before getting up to follow. Shanyi was still only on the edge of consciousness, and remained. As they made their way through the crowd, they discovered the source of the drumming to be an obese yet fierce-looking hedgehog beating on canvas stretched over some chunk of debris from the pit that vaguely resembled the shape of a drum. He pounded expertly on it, not like the vermin waking them up in the morning, but with true skill. He wove patterns with his beats, and it almost seemed ceremonial to Rugle. Other hedgehogs stood behind the drummer, a group similar in appearance, and probably similar in dress had they not been in prison rags. Their dusty disposition led Rugle to assume they were from the northwest coast, perhaps a tribe of Dunehogs. That seemed to fit. Rugle wished Shanyi was awake to see this, for he was descended from Dunehogs and was not born a northerner. But he grew up there, and was as much as northerner as anybeast as far as Rugle was concerned.

Other groups of similar creatures seemed to be appearing. The bats all hovered in one area, and Rugle assumed they were from a large cave to have that many members. Perhaps Bat Mountpit? He couldn't be certain. Many bat tribes dotted the west.

Rugle noticed that Conndugan and his kin gathered with an assorted group of creatures, although the majority were mice. They were obviously of the Peaceful Order of Noonvale, similar in some ways to those from Redwall Abbey. As Rugle looked at these groups he realized how alien it must seem to some. He was fortunate enough to be very well-traveled and knew things about most places across the land and those who lived there. Most northerners were either staunchly supportive of staying in their own land or completely open to exploration. Rugle was of the latter pool, along with his closest companions.

The volume of the drumming increased greatly, and the prisoners quieted down. The bats and birds even seemed to quiet their wing beats. Prisoners seemed to have a knack for that, Rugle noted. He doubted that was a trait obtained at birth.

With three final beats of the drum that seemed to almost break the sound barrier, all sound was ceased. Rugle became quite concerned that the menace Fleatoe would hear, but he supposed if the prisoners were doing it, they knew or at least assumed they would not be caught. For if they were, Rugle didn't doubt that the punishments could amount to death—or worse.

A young, lean mouse who someone maintained his rouge, handsome appearance and his air of confidence walked out from a group of fellow mice into the room's centre. "We hold this meeting today for two reasons, the first being the arrival of new captives to Dunnk, and the second being that…it is time."

This statement invited many cheers and angry shouts. The Noonvale creatures, other than Conndugan, showed their resentment but not loudly. A group of shrews cheered madly, the hedgehogs beat their drums, and the bats flew circles around the building.

"Silence!" Conddugan hoarsely shouted. Silence fell and motion was cut short.

Another young mouse, dark grey of fur as opposed to the rusty colour of the former, came up beside the other. The second mouse was much plumper, although after studying him closer, Rugle realized it was muscle.

"Why should you silence us, _old man_?" he jeered, pointing at Conndugan.

The first mouse and several others, all male and of equivalent age, nodded their approval, agreed aloud, and even had the nerve to laugh mockingly. Rugle had already had enough of these brats, and decided to speak up.

"This _old man _has already shown me that he has a place, unlike _you_," Rugle said.

The mice seemed disgusted and confused until the muscled one sauntered up to Rugle and planted a finger on his chest. He looked threateningly into Rugle's eye. "And what place do _you _have, you fool of a hare? You just got here! You know nothing."

Conndugan slapped the mouse. "Learn _your _place, Gregness! You know very well that

_I _have the right to silence you. Don't make me exercise it!"

Grasping his face, aghast, the young mouse Gregness looked at Conndugan disgustedly before shooting Rugle a glare and returning to his place among the others.

"Now," Conndugan announced, "I am advising you all to be quiet. Viktin's little speech and the aftermath was a prime example of the volume we can't have. Do you want Fleatoe to hear us? He'd whip us all 'til we were dead!"

Viktin, the rusty-coloured mouse, huffed and crossed his arms. "I'm not afraid of that wretch, Conndugan."

"They say he is called Fleatoe because he lost a toe to a ravenous infection of fleas. Not true. It was severed. Got caught raping a noble lord's daughter. Father cut it right off. Father got his head cut right off, too," a hedgehog said prophetically.

"Leave it to Froshnor to get off topic…" Viktin muttered.

"Froshnor knows more of the world than you ever will, Viktin," Quorin spat.

"SILENCE!" Conndugan boomed. "This is precisely why we cannot take any drastic measures—we cannot get along well enough to work together!"

"And…what would _drastic measures _be, exactly?" Rugle asked inquisitively.

Conndugan sighed and closed his eyes, seeming to anticipate something, when Viktin beamed. "Why, drastic measures, my flop-eared friend, would be doing what those of us with any _sense _wish to do!"

This earned several cheers and agreeing nods and throws of paws into the air that quickly subsided. Viktin continued. "Drastic measures would be doing what is right!" Again there were cheers and nods of approval.

"Drastic measures," he said, "Would be rising up and taking this evil place from our captors!" Many creatures cheered madly. The applause was immensely loud. Rugle had to cover his sensitive hare ears.

When it quieted down, Rugle spoke out. "Rising up? Are you mad? We'll all be slaughtered! They have ten times the bodies we do!"

"Another stickler," Gregness muttered.

"I think you'll wish you had listened to this stickler when your head is on a pike!" Dornet spat angrily.

Gregness's reply was lost to a sea of arguing, shouting, and hatred. Conndugan, without a word, got up and left the compound. Rugle noticed and quietly slipped out as well.

Rugle found Conndugan standing in the slight wind several paces away from the compound, deep in thought, eyes closed.

"I cannot allow them to rebel," Conndugan said. "Too many would die."

"Agreed," said Rugle, nodding.

Conndugan sighed. "You do understand that it's not because I want to be here, but for their own safety?"

"Of course," Rugle told the wise old mouse.

"Despite this, the brash young Viktin and his cronies do not heed my warnings. They would lead their own people and mine to the black gates," Conndugan breathed, staring into the distance with a sad look in his bronze eyes.

Rugle sat down quietly next to Conndugan, who shortly followed his lead and dropped to sit cross-legged in the dust of the desert ground.

"Where do Viktin and company hail from, anyhow?" Rugle asked.

Conndugan grunted. "Part of some proud tribe of cavemice. Fools, that's what they are. The other cavemice tribes that were apprehended aren't like Viktin's, though. His cause, however, seems to be igniting something in the prisoners. They grow…insubordinate. Dunnk's rules are not to their liking."

Rugle uttered a small and reserved snicker. "I fear Dunnk's rules are to the liking of nobeast except those whom composed them."

"They take me for a fool," Conndugan chuckled softly. "A blind old bat with naught left in the head but air."

They laughed for a second before sitting in a contemplating silence, staring off to the torch lights of Dunnk's highest towers, losing themselves to the realm of thought.

After a while of thinking about what had occurred in the prisoner compound, Rugle turned again to Conndugan. "Where do the others come from?"

"The bats hail from Bat Mountpit. Supposedly they were attacked by a vermin horde known as the CSL, whatever that stands for. Truly devastating event, from all I've heard. The bats put up quite a fight, but lost so many warriors that the rest were simply knocked into submission, and the women and children taken. Several of the bats claim that a group of their warriors deserted during the fight to save their own lives. No doubt if they ever show themselves again they will be put to trial…and perhaps death," Conndugan detailed. "The warriors of Bat Mountpit are proud creatures, hare. Don't ever forget that. Deadly, too. Vermin don't do too well when their being aerially assaulted."

Rugle nodded. "Are they loyal?"

"Oh, very," Conndugan explained. "They would do anything to assist in our escape, even if it meant forfeiting their own lives. They have nothing now; their home destroyed, their people scattered. Some have hope of repairing the mountain or relocating to one of their colonies and calling survivors there."

"I guess I did not realize bats were on 'our side', per say," Rugle said. He may have had experience with a lot of cultures, but bats were not one of them. He hated the dark moistness of a cave and had never ventured inside one after an incident on the west coast where he and his friends had been attacked whilst exploring by a savage wolverine that was hiding in one.

Conndugan nodded. "Oh yes, the bats want nothing to do at all with vermin. They have a history of friendship with the Long Patrol of Salamandastron…you would know!" he said, smiling. When Rugle stared blankly, he sighed. "Perhaps not of late. They also have a past with Redwall Abbey and even Noonvale from time to time. Did I mention I am also a historian?"

"No," Rugle said, "I don't believe you did. You did mention being a caretaker. And I am a northerner, not of the Long Patrol."

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten. You seem like a member of the Patrol, though. You have their disposition. And both, actually, I was the caretaker at one point but was known at Noonvale for spending the majority of my time surrounded not by creatures or nature but by books! Old, dusty books, and yellowed scrolls, piles and stacks, always sorting and shifting, reading and scanning. The historian's career is one of solitude and curiosity, my friend. Some, however, saw my program to be a waste of time and space, and wanted to dispel my library. Noonvale has the most extensive set of historical records, scrolls, and books in the land, did you know that?"

"No," Rugle admitted. During his onetime visit to the place, Rugle had discovered that Salamandastron had a lot of historical records, but they pertained mostly to internal affairs. They catalogued the lineage of the badger lords and the times between, right back to the time of the Long Patrol's founding. Rugle had read some of it, but he preferred to spend time elsewhere during his stay, the armoury in particular. He also knew Redwall had kept records of the events in Mossflower for uncountable seasons.

Conndugan's face suddenly portrayed sadness. "Do you know what they did to my scrolls and books, when they came?"

"No," Rugle said, for the third time. Conndugan grew very upset very fast, and Rugle could guess the answer, but he didn't want to offend the old mouse.

"They burned them," he said, a tear dripping from his face. "All of them. The entire library, GONE!" he yelled, with a quiver in his voice. He turned to Rugle, voice quavering. "They destroyed it all! Set flame to my library and cut the throats of my workers! And I was made to WATCH THE WHOLE THING!" he sobbed.

Rugle wanted to say something, he wanted to be kind to this mouse, but he found no words to do so with. So he stared at the old historian as he cried, trying to understand his pain.

Conndugan stood up, a fire in his eyes. "I know what we must do."

"No!" Rugle said, springing to stand. "You can't! They'll all die!"

"It is time," he said, walking back to the compound without another word, leaving Rugle out in the dust.

For the first time in what seemed ages, the halls of Redwall Abbey were abuzz singing, dancing, and an air of general merriment. The Great Hall was packed with creatures and alive, the dim greyness of just hours prior being swept away. The long oaken tables were topped with candles and silverware aplenty, in preparation for the coming feast. What pieces remained of the kitchen that did not smoulder and were usable were used, otherwise makeshift kitchens were set up by Ambrose Spike and Jube Stump, who also had the task of readying the beverages. Redwall was low on paws, especially since what had become known as the Sacking of Redwall, and it grew harder and harder to find help. But not on this night. For once, everybeast was alive again, part of the action, and participating. A fiery spirit rushed through the grounds, where many Redwall defenders leapt around through the rubble, practicing with swords. The clanks of metal on metal and the twangs of arrows echoed off the stone walls, sending feelings of pride through everybeast within hearing distance. Their enthusiastic shouts were rapidly increasing morale. It was truly amazing how one speech could turn an Abbey upside down.

Sam Squirrel darted expertly around through the boulders and debris, swinging his new broadsword, a gift from Orlando, who happened to trail not far behind, parrying with Riverjack. Metal clanged as Sir Harry the Muse dove towards Sam with his recently acquired blade. Sam anticipated the attack and parried, but did not see the peculiar warden sneaking up behind him. The Warden, like most of the Redwallers and their allies, had acquired replacement or wholly new weapons from Orlando's secret weapons stockpile, which was hidden in the bushes near the quarry. The Warden struck Sam in the back with the flat of his scimitar's blade, knocking him to the ground instantly.

"You okay, matey?" Riverjack called.

Sam rubbed the back of his head, leaning up. "Okay as I'm ever gonna be, friend," he said with a cough and a thumbs-up.

Riverjack laughed. "I'll be as much as soon as I get some hotroot soup in this stomach!" 

Sam shared his mirth and continued to chuckle as Sir Harry swept out of nowhere and knocked Riverjack to the ground.

"Hey!" Auma called out, standing in a doorway. "You all are going to miss the feast!"

Riverjack was on his feet and running in an instant, chanting as he went. "Hotroot soup, hotroot soup, hotroot soup!"

"That's the Skipper of Otters for you," Sam chuckled, and Auma could not help but join in. She hadn't laughed since Constance's death and Orlando's coma. Constance had meant so much to her; she had been a second mother. And her father falling unconscious soon after had just taken her off the deep end. But now she was back, her old self, and ready to fill Constance's pawprints with alacrity.

Most creatures of Redwall were already set up at the feast. The tables of the Great Hall had been hauled outside by the Foremole's crew. The leaders of Redwall had thought it appropriate to get out of the Abbey and breathe in the fresh air. Since Cornflower's speech, the land seemed to have grown joyous, for now new grass sprouted from the earth, flowers opened up, and the trees grew new buds. The grey, ashen land was finally being undone. Mossflower was fighting back. It was healing.

Young yet growing Rollo Bankvole bounced excitedly around near Basil and Cheek Stag Otter, ready to shove food into his mouth at any point. Jube looked over the food hesitantly yet lustily alongside Ambrose. At the head of the tables sat Orlando, Jess, the Log-a-Log Flugg, and Tim and Tess Churchmouse.

Orlando hit his fork on a metal plate multiple times, causing a ringing metallic sound to cascade over the feasting tables. Everybeast hushed so that Orlando could say what needed to be said, looking to the badger whom they revered.

"We are gathered here today to feast!" he exclaimed. The creatures of Redwall lifted their chalices and shouted. "YAAAH!"

Orlando held his up as well, signaling for silence. The gold of his cup glinted in the setting sunlight, and his axe swung from his belt. Orlando was now calling the axe "Bane", as in the bane of vermin existence.

"A feast," he continued, swishing his glass around thoughtfully, "In preparation for the forthcoming storm."

Solemn looks returned Orlando the Axe at that moment, as he stood cradling his chalice of wine and staring into the sky.

"Yes," the old badger said, "A storm. But no ordinary one! We speak of a storm that shall bring back to us Mattimeo, his son Martin, and the honour of our Abbey!"

The Redwallers cheered again. Feelings of pride surged through the crowd like never before.

"We seek to set free those who are not, we strive to win back the kingdoms of the lost, and we shall do it as one!" he yelled. "For splintered we are no longer! Redwall is again whole!"

A wave of cheers and shouts of pride came upon Orlando then, and it took him quite some time to calm everybeast down. Once the Redwallers felt content, he continued. "As I'm sure you all know, we have been without a proper leader for far too long. The elder denizens of Redwall have voted unanimously to confirm Cornflower as our new Abbess!"

The cheering was immense, from everybeast but one: Cornflower. She was taken aback. The breath left her. Abbess? How could she be Abbess? This couldn't be true. Couldn't! She could name at least ten other candidates that were all better, _younger_, than her! She was just an old mousemaid, for heaven's sake! What could they be doing, going and making her Abbess?

Cornflower felt nothing but blank confusion and underlying panic as she was invited up by Orlando, who ceremoniously awarded her with the official garb of an Abbess of Redwall, followed by more cheering.

"Speech! Speech!" Cheek hooted from the crowd, sparking a chant. "Speech, speech, speech!" they cried, making Cornflower want to wretch with nervousness. She had done it once, but that was to bring these creatures together, and for the safety of her family. Then, she had felt pride and ease during her lecture; now, all she had was a stare.

She attempted shaking off all negative thoughts and cleared her mind. A speech. They wanted a speech. And she had to give them one.

"I believe," she started, shakily. "In you, in this Abbey and its future, and in victory. I believe that together we can defeat this great evil that has come upon us and thrown us aside, this evil that has taken so many and so much from us. I believe in the courage and strength of everybeast here, every single one of you. I believe in many things, but myself as Abbess of Redwall…is not one of them."

Gasps and hushed whispers ran through the crowd. Nobeast dared speak out, not even Orlando, who was just about the only one who seemed to know this was coming.

"Therefore," she said still shaking, "I demote my title to one of honour alone, and no real power. I keep it out of respect to those who gifted it to me, and I thank you, but I now place the control of the forthcoming storm in the paws of our friend Orlando the Axe, whom I name the temporary Warrior of Redwall!"

All that could be heard for a few precious seconds was the chirping of crickets and the soft beating of sparrow wings, but somebeast slowly began clapping until slowly the cheering rose again.

Orlando drew his new shining axe. "To Redwall!" he shouted.

The Redwallers held their drinks aloft. "To Redwall!" 

Cornflower held a hand to her heart, clutching her habit. "To our fallen warrior and friend, Matthias!"

"Aye, Matthias, wot wot!" Basil cried.

Everybeast gradually raised their glasses in respect. Cornflower saw their emotional faces as theirs arms rose. They all looked to her, pride and sadness flowing through them like water. Ambrose, Jess, Sam, Sister May, Sir Harry, and Riverjack all met her gaze, and tears welled in her eyes. The emotion of the place at that moment was too much to bear for her.

Orlando stepped out beside Cornflower. "And now, friends, feast, for this may be your last! We leave on the morrow, bound for the mountain of the west!"

And then it began. The feast was splendourous indeed; every delicacy in the Abbey cookbooks had been prepared. Flavours of every kind laced the tables that night, salty and sweet, tangy and spicy, savoury and rib-sticking. Skipper Riverjack and company dined extensively on hotroot soup, of course, and Cheek as well. Basil naturally wolfed down anything within sight, trying anything that passed his way.

"Oh, yes, I'll have one of these," Basil said, mouth full of food, as a basket of scones passed by. "And one of these," he commented as a pile of tarts was scooted past him. Jess laughed with her son on the opposite side of the table.

"Good thing we're not feedin' the whole Long Patrol, isn't it?" Jess snorted.

Sam giggled. "We'd be out of food in no time if that were the case, I think!"

Not far off, Cheek gulped a bowl of hotroot soup much too quickly, and his face turned crimson. Riverjack and an otter called Seabound (likely due to his strong desire to try a life at sea) hooted and guffawed at the young otter as, fuming, he frantically pounded around for a cup of water. He found it, and downed it immediately, colour returning to his face. He shot a glare at the other otters. "You didn't say it would be that hot!"

Seabound slapped the table, almost in tears with mirth. "Why else do ya' think they call it hotroot soup, laddie?"

While Cheek gasped for breath and the other denizens of Redwall dined to their fill, Cornflower sat up with Orlando and the others, not caring to eat much and mostly sticking with sipping on a jug of mint tea.

Suddenly, Orlando pulled Cornflower aside, and they spoke in the quiet of a tree's shadow, the sprouts of life surrounding them below.

"Why me?" she asked, right away.

"Why you?" Orlando exclaimed, as if she jested. "Who else could it have been, Cornflower? You were the one. The only one. And even if there had been a thousand to choose from, we still would have chosen you."

"But why?" she asked, a tremble escaping in amongst the words.

"After that speech you gave, how could we not? Don't you understand this, Cornflower? You brought Redwall back together. Without you, we'd likely be cantering on with our personal frets but you—_you_—brought us out of that. You are our saviour, Cornflower."

Cornflower frowned, but Orlando lifted her chin up with a finger. "Why are you so down upon yourself? You are a true hero, you know."

"I'm not as special as you all think, either," she said.

"You're much more special than you fancy yourself, and you know it. Most of the others haven't noticed, but why am I sensing that you have two sides? The real, brazen, prideful and adventurous Cornflower, and this one. This dainty, afraid Cornflower. Why?"

Cornflower lost her cool. She heaved a sob and flung herself on Orlando, who was taken aback but awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"Oh, Orlando," she cried, "Ever since Matthias was taken from me—I mean Redwall—it's as if a part of my soul has been taken too. I loved him, Orlando, with every ounce of my heart, and now that he's gone I don't know what to do."

"I know how you feel," he said comfortingly.

Cornflower turned away harshly. "No, you don't understand! You don't!"

"Hey!" he said, pushing her back around. "You know that I do. I lost somebeast that day too, somebeast I loved just the same. Do you not think a piece of my soul has left me too?"

She sobbed again. "Oh, Orlando, I know, but you have your Auma, and my Mattimeo is far away, and my grandson as well! My entire family has been taken from me all at once, and it's just too much to handle!"

"You have Tess," he said, patting her on the back as she cried.

"No!" she said sharply. "I don't! Tess doesn't understand! She didn't see her husband's corpse lowered into the dirt! She has hope!"

"You can hope, too," Orlando said.

"For what?" she cried.

"For Redwall," he said. "We are just as much your family, Cornflower, you know it. You can hope for all of us, and you can still hope for Martin. We'll rescue him, I know we will."

"They wouldn't kill him, would they?" she asked. "A child? They couldn't! But…would they?" she said, still crying.

Orlando sighed. "I don't know, Cornflower, but I do know that he is alive. I think that we would all be able to feel it if our little Martin was gone. And since he is alive, I intend to find him and take him from the hands of whatever shadows hold him."

"Please," she said, a tremour in her tone. "Please do whatever it takes to get Martin back safely. But don't sacrifice others' lives trying. I couldn't bear any more death."

"Martin is no longer just Martin. He is a symbol. The symbol of Redwall's honour. And I'm fairly certain that we have some creatures who are willing to die for their Abbey."

Cornflower wiped a tear away from her face. "Yes," she said. "We do."

Orlando smiled. "You know, for a place dedicated to peace and prosperity, we sure do a lot of fighting, huh?"

After all that had happened, Cornflower could not resist a laugh there under the shady tree and the setting sun, with the sounds of insects chirping and creatures chatting in Redwall.

Blood seeped out and ran down the sides of his neck. His paws bled freely, staining the table red. His face was scarred, his body beaten. This miserable thing was what the great Mattimeo the Warrior had become. And it was all because of Carnlo—that mindless traitor, Mattimeo thought. Then again, mindless was not the word. Insane was more like it, for a mind Carnlo had, just not one of normalcy. The fiendish mouse stood several paces away, passively cleaning the blades of his device and washing away the blood of his victim. Screams and shouts rang from outside, even down here. They were looking for him, he knew.

"They won't find you, you know," Carnlo said, turning towards Mattimeo as he wiped a blade with a rag of deep purple colour.

Mattimeo had not the energy or will to snarl in defiance anymore; instead he simply gave his captor a disdainful look.

"Not down here," he continued, "They wouldn't search for you here, even if you were the single most important mouse north of Castle Floret and south of the old Broadstream. If you were looking for you, would you look here?"

Mattimeo shook his head no. He saw no point in resisting Carnlo further.

"I wouldn't think so. I'm sure they're focusing their attention on the outside. The logical place for an escaped slave would be away from his place of captivity, would it not?"

Mattimeo nodded feebly, his head pounding.

"Oh, yes, they'll be scanning the outside quite thoroughly. And I'm sure Bhriina has gone by now, most certainly."

Mattimeo coughed. "Gone?"

"Oh yes," Carnlo said, "She's long gone, if I know her. She was pregnant. Did you know?"

Mattimeo shook his head. "No."

Carnlo nodded. "I figured as much. Seemed I was the only one who noticed. Not even her own husband, or Bhriina herself, I believe, knew of it. But I could tell. And, menace or not, a mother is a mother, and I think that a mother's instinct would tell her to seek shelter somewhere more…prudent, shall we say?"

A loud banging suddenly came upon the great door that guarded the room. "Well," Carnlo said, "Looks as if they've found us after all. Covodre must've known more than I intended. Stand back, Mattimeo, this may get ugly."

The door came down soon enough, and eight heavily armed vermin burst into the room, lead by none other than Covodre himself.

"Covodre, my dear," Carnlo said, "How did you ever take time off from your busy schedule to drop in and little old me?"

"Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, Carnlo," said Reginlim Greeneyes, who was among the company and towered over them.

Covodre waved Reginlim off. "What are you doing with this prisoner?"

"Which one?" Carnlo said, feigning confusion. "This one here?" he said, pointing back at Mattimeo. "Why, I'm just administering punishment, that's all."

"This prisoner is not yours to punish, fool, he's mine! I am the leader of this horde, and you will do as I command. Give me the prisoner, and you will be spared," Covodre said.

"Leader of the horde, you say?" Carnlo said. "Hmph, that's funny, the last time I checked your wife Bhriina was in charge."

"She has left us," Covodre said, trying not to let his voice waver.

"Hmm," Carnlo thought. "As she should have."

"Give me Mattimeo, fool!" Covodre yelled.

"No," Carnlo said, plain and simple. "I don't have to. You can't make me."

Covodre fumed. "Do not play child with me, fool! Hand over your prisoner or die!"

Carnlo sighed, as if having just been denied cordial as a child. "And to think that just days ago we could have been deemed friends."

Quickly and unexpectly, Carnlo let fly a knife from his sleeve, that immediately found its mark in the neck chink of a ferret's armour and downed the beast immediately. Not seconds after, he hurled a second knife into the throat of a burly rat called Tailer, causing the creature to gurgle and splutter as blood gushed and bubbled from his dying corpse.

Fast as lightning, Carnlo was upon Reginlim, stabbing expertly at the wildcat but missing all of the vital areas and simply denting the cat's armour. He spun and leapt upon Covodre, who drew his sword and blocked Carnlo's knife, sending it clattering to the ground. In the blink of an eye, Carnlo had another one out, and threw it madly into Covodre's face, barely missing.

Covodre slashed wildly at Carnlo with his sword, causing shwooshing sounds to rebound through the room and reverberate Mattimeo's skull. All the while, Mattimeo had been wondering what to do in the situation. This was his _only _chance for escape, but how?

Carnlo jumped at Covodre with the knife again, but the cowardly horde leader shoved an unsuspecting weasel in front of the blade. Pulling the knife from the weasel's body, Covodre hurled it expertly at Carnlo, who actually managed to _catch _it by the blade. He was about to return Covodre's throw when his opponent regained his sword and came crashing down upon him. Carnlo felt the blade pierce his flesh; it felt like a thousand scalds from the hottest iron.

Carnlo, now slumped against the wall, looked down to see a bloody wound in his chest and looked up horrified at Covodre, who slowly and painfully ripped the sword from him.

"You should have been obedient," Covodre said. "Why did you not give me Mattimeo?"

And then Mattimeo hit Covodre over the head with a hard iron chair, knocking him from consciousness. The bloodied and battered mouse stood defiantly over Covodre's form, throwing down the chair. He was about to beat a hasty retreat when Carnlo spoke.

"You can't win," he said, barely a whisper escaping his damaged body.

"I will," Mattimeo told him.

"I didn't," Carnlo said, and before Mattimeo could turn around to question him, he was gone.

For a moment, Mattimeo looked at the dead form of his torturer, and remembered him in life, before he had switched sides. Then he reminded himself that Carnlo had always been evil, even if he hadn't seemed it at first. He also pondered the emotional depth of Carnlo's final statement. Was he simply speaking of his last eneavour with Covodre, or something deeper? Mattimeo got the feeling that the statement ran deeper than that.

Mattimeo shook his head. What was he doing? Standing and waiting to be killed? Quickly he stole past the unconscious vermin company, almost tripping over Reginlim. The door hung open still, so he peered outside to make sure nobeast was there. Nobeast was. Mattimeo fetched a sword from one of the unconscious forms and tiptoed out into the hall.

He could hear the shuffling of feet and far-off voices, but otherwise the hallway was unoccupied. Mattimeo quickly attempted thinking logically about the situation, and recalled from one of his old, dusty history lessons that Salamandastron had a lesser-known back exit. It would most likely be easier to escape the mountain from there, but where was the back? Mattimeo hadn't the foggiest where he was.

Okay, okay, he thought. If I can't find my way here, I'll just have to go up. And that was precisely what he did. He chose a direction down the hall and went until he came to a staircase, which, luckily for him, led straight up and was vermin-free. The last bit was the part that concerned him. Why was nobeast guarding this place?

After taking the most accurate route possible, based off of the way he was brought down to the dungeon, Mattimeo's head poked out of a grate overlooking the courtyard. Armed vermin swarmed everywhere, obviously on high alert. He supposed it was due to Bhriina's absence. He pondered for a moment why she had departed, but he shook the thoughts off and looked for a route of escape.

Now that he had his bearings, what appeared to be a route out of the mountain presented itself. But how to get there? It was too far to jump; he would be splattered on the floor in seconds. He quickly noticed several small ledges in the wall that somewhat led to his destination, and with lack of options, he leaped.

Mattimeo landed hard on the first ledge, his body aching from hours of torture. My mind has not been broken, he told himself, as he flung himself to the next ledge. My mind has not been broke, he told himself, as he thudded hard onto the stone. My mind has not been broken, he told himself, as he barely made the next jump.

The next leap seemed longest. In fact, it seemed miles away. But Mattimeo was not going to give up now. My mind has not been broke, he told himself, as his footpaws left safety.

He crashed into the ledge's edge, gripping on with depleted strength. His stolen sword clattered down the wall, landing finally behind the throne. One lone rat among the massive horde looked up for the source of the clatter, picking up the sword with interest. Mattimeo wriggled and struggled with all his might to heave himself up onto the ledge, to no avail.

"Hey!" the rat yelled. Mattimeo gulped. My mind has not been broken. They will not break my mind now or ever. My mind has not been broken.

Mattimeo peered out of the corner of his eye to see the rat pointing up with a claw as he was swept away into a line of passing corsairs. He sighed deeply. Nobeast had noticed. That was about as close as Mattimeo was willing to go.

Returning to the task at hand and gaining a sudden rush of energy, Mattimeo hauled himself upwards and onto the ledge, breathing raggedly when he got there. My mind has not been broken, he told himself again. It was all he could do to keep going.

The rest of the ledges were easier, as they were all straight down. Mattimeo let himself fall from each one to the next, a cold crunching sound resulting each time. That couldn't be good. But he kept going. My mind has not been broken.

He flopped down to the desired hallway and shambled into the dark of it in order to avoid being spotted. Mattimeo peered out to see hundreds of vermin flooding in through the front entrance. They came upon the Coarc swiftly; they were a wave of steel that came crashing upon the shore in a bloody whirl of carnage.

Mattimeo hadn't the time to worry about that, so he shoved on. Now almost crawling, he pulled himself into a torch-lit room filled with armour. Two rats conversed not far off.

"Axe storage closet, my pelt! There ain't no blinkin' closet! Whoever said that's goin' down, do ye hear me, Stumpwhisker?"

"Loud an' clear, Lieutenant! But hardly, over those noises out that a way! Hey, wot's 'is?" the second rat said, taking notice of Mattimeo's tail, which stuck out from his hiding place behind a chest of axes.

"Why," the second rat said, seeing the bedraggled mouse, "We've got company! And look, he was in the axe storage after all!"

Mattimeo used one of last ounces of strength to pick up the nearest object to him—a brick—and hurl it at the rat. He never saw the rat go down, but the sickening crunch of the brick's contact with skull and the equally grotesque splattering of blood were all he needed.

The other rat shrieked for a second before leaping at Mattimeo, who gave a swift kick that sent the rat sprawling past his friend's carcass.

Standing up shakily, Mattimeo reached for an axe and walked slowly towards the just-sitting-up rat. "My mind…has not…been broken," he muttered as he hefted the axe aloft. "My mind…has not…been broken."

Mattimeo didn't stop with just one swing. After ten well-aimed chops the rat was far beyond dead.

My mind has not been broken, he told himself, as he dragged his limp body along towards the light of the outdoors. A great, rusty door stood wide open to the ribbon of stairs that led down the mountain's backside. The natural light rejuvenated Mattimeo as he slammed shut the door behind him and half-ran half-tumbled down into the grass. He smiled and rolled around in its greenness, listening to the birds sing and the trees rustle.

Mattimeo looked back at Salamandastron.

And he remembered.

Martin.

He flew up the steps and pounded and pounded against the rusty door. He pried desperately at its hinges and cursed madly. He beat and kicked at the door until he was numb, and then plopped down onto the terrace, sobbing. The battle that took place then inside his mind was just as fierce as the one unfolding inside the mountain.

How could you be such a fool? He cursed himself, holding his head in shaking paws. He beat his fist against the stone, tears falling like rain from his battered face. How could you possibly forget your own son?

Mattimeo glanced skywards, the sun in his eyes. He had an answer. He whispered it.

"My mind has been broken."

Bhriina tore on through the forest, dismissing the pain of her coming child as she went. She burst through with a newfound strength, and she smiled. For the first time in a while, she thought. It was as if an immense weight had been lifted suddenly from her shoulders, freeing her to do as she pleased.

Bhriina paused at a large tree to catch her breath and took view of her surroundings. Leaf litter coated the ground, leaves of yellow, orange, and red. She kicked playfully at the leaves, stirring them up into the breeze. Bhriina laughed as she danced among the swirling leaves. It was a laugh unlike one she had had in a great time, not demented, or eerie, or for any effect. Not a mad giggle, or an evil guffaw, but a true, pure laugh of joy.

She sat down in the leaves, staring up into the sky. Bhriina was not usually a fan of the sky, for whenever she set her eyes upon it was grey, dull, and dreary. Now as she looked upwards, calming blue greeted her. She grinned.

Bhriina heard a faint rustle to the right, and glanced over to see a very young and very distressed hedgehog hiding in the nearest bush, trying to remain as silent as possible, but breathing heavily. He noticed her at once, and gave her an extremely concerned look, as if to ask her what on earth she was doing out in the open.

She scooted quietly towards the young one. "What is the matter, hedgehog?"

Tears came to the toddler's eyes. "Badbeasts came in our den…they hurt mum and da," she hedgehog said, whispering. "They're coming for me!"

Bhriina gritted her teeth. "No they're not. We'll get out of here safely, together!"

"I'm…afraid," he whispered.

"I used to be afraid," she admitted. "But no longer. I will go first, and make sure the badbeasts aren't around." The hedgehog nodded fervently.

Bhriina tiptoed out from behind the bush. Nobeast was in sight. She whispered towards the hedgehog. "You can come out. It's safe now."

The hedgehog teetered out from behind the bush, and Bhriina helped him along for a few steps before letting go. "Let's go," she said.

"Okay," the hedgehog said, smiling faintly underneath an expression of pain. Bhriina hadn't even heard the whiz of the arrow until it was too late.

She turned madly to see a nasty gang of four vermin. Two rats, a weasel, and a ferret made up the group, and she could tell at once that they were simple outlaws.

She looked back to the hedgehog, whose tiny white shirt was stained with blood and whose body was slumped forward onto the ground, arrow protruding from his young chest. With disgust she turned to face the vermin, who pointed and chuckled amongst themselves at her.

"A child?" she said. "You would murder a child?"

"Aye, wot's it ta you, missie?" the weasel said, lowering the bow that had slain the small hedgehog.

"What's it to me? What's it to me? That child was nothing to me, but a child nonetheless, and one does not simply murder a child. What has he possibly done to you fiends?"

The ferret spat. "This little fella's parents owed us big time. They wouldn't give up none o' their stores, so we had t' kill 'em, child included! Gotta take the law seriously, marm."

"The law? I see no law here. What is see is the lawless," she said, defiantly.

"We run these woods, missie, and anybeast sayin' otherwise is nuts!" the weasel said.

Bhriina scoffed. "Who appointed you ruler? I didn't vote for you," she said sarcastically.

One of the rats jeered. "Ya don't have ta vote for us, sweetheart. We're the law 'round these parts!"

Recalling her extensive and extensively boring war study of the land, Bhriina objected. "Are these woods not ruled from the seat of Noonvale?"

"Noonvale?" the other rat guffawed. "Ain't no Noonvale no more, missie!"

No Noonvale? she thought. Oh, that was right. It was one of the places that must have been pillaged by the Conglomerate.

"Don't call me missie!" she said, changing the subject. "My name is…" she fell short. Could she still call herself Bhriina? She felt that with this fresh start she needed a new name.

"Sky!" she exclaimed, thinking of the first thing around her. Like the sky above, she had gone from a grey storm to a blue calm.

"Wot kinda name is that, missie?" the rat said, pointing his curved sword towards her.

"The name of somebeast with whom you have found fault, scum!" she bit.

Their weasel leader held up a paw as the other rat also drew his sword. "Now, now, there's no need for this to get nasty, missie. Why don't you join our little band here? We've been needin' a good'un to cook an' clean, and quench our desire."

Bhriina snarled. "I will not cook, I will not clean, and I will certainly not _quench your desire_, scum! I would not do this for the best king in the land! I am free, I tell you, free!"

"Well, then, missie, if you're not a' comin' along by choice, it'll have to be by force." Turning to his companions, the weasel continued. "First one to 'er gets 'er as much as 'e pleases for the first week!"

The rats and ferret dashed upon Bhriina, but even in her heavily pregnant state, she was not going to fall. She kicked one of the rats in the foot and sent him sprawling into the leaves. She was on his sword in a moment. Unexpectedly, the rat grabbed her foot, and tore at her already torn clothing madly, reaching for her breast. When his paw found its prize, the rat's whole arm came off in a bloody tear.

The ferret swung two short knives expertly as he darted around her. Daringly, he chucked one of them at her. It grazed off her shoulder and thudded into the leaf litter. Now blinking and standing harmlessly, the ferret fell to a well-aimed cut from Bhriina, which sent blood spraying all over her and the ferret down to the ground.

Suddenly, the second rat knocked Bhriina to the ground, and she used all of the strength in her body to land on her back, so as not to harm the baby. The rat was on top of her in a flash, its gritty black fur scraping her and its wild eyes thrashing back and forth. Her assailant attempted without hesitation to rape her, but she reached for her nearby sword, grabbing it just as he entered her and stabbing him in the head.

If only it were Covodre, she thought, as she shoved the body off and stood up. Her head pounded, her midsection even worse. The baby was coming soon, she knew it. She could not have her child here, not in this place of carnage.

The weasel laughed and she turned her head to see him sharpening a knife on his fingernail, looking nonchalantly in her direction. "Ha! Haven't forgotten about me, have ya?"

Bhriina sighed, lugging up the increasingly heavy sword and pointing it in his direction. "Don't make me kill you, fool! Get out of these woods!"

Again he laughed. "Who do you think you are, mouse? You're nothing, nothing but a maid, bound to serve us, the superiors. Maids who think much of themselves make me sick, missie. You're bound to end up only as the fire of our loins, nothing more!"

Anger welled up within Bhriina, and somehow through her pain she managed to almost leap through the air before shoving the sword into the weasel's chest. Leaning close to him as the blade pierced his vital organs, she whispered.

"Looks like I'm the ice of your loins instead, bastard!" she snarled, shoving the sword even further into his body and into the tree that it rested against.

Bhriina collapsed against the same tree, breathing hard, barely aware of the hawk who came diving down to her.

Bhriina awoke in semi-darkness, not sure of her surroundings. They were warm, though, indoors. She was in a homely little hole, in a tree, not too far off from where the vermin gang had been slain. She thought of their gruesome deaths, and how beasts like that were who she was among but a day ago. Disgusting, vile, creatures as they were, she thought.

She glanced around for signs of other creatures but found none; she was alone. She chose to stay where she was, trying not to move so as not to cause more pain. She was spattered with both her blood and the blood of others. She mused that that blood was not just of that gang, it was of all of the innocent creatures she had murdered, the molecules of their blood calling out to her in a plea for life. Life was something that she could give no one, perhaps save her baby. Alas, even the baby would soon die if nobeast came around to help her.

At last, a red hawk came swooping in and closed the door. It was a female, tall and brusque, yet refined in a womanly manner. Definitely female, Bhriina decided, and definitely proud. Most likely kind, if this was her home and Bhriina was in it by her doing.

"You save forest," the hawk said, the words coming out in a clunky dialect only used among birds and the very dull of mind. "You save all us, mouse."

"Who are you?" Bhriina asked faintly, holding the back of a paw to her forehead.

"Name is May!" the hawk said, puffing out her chest. "May Redkite! Mother is Stryk, father is Skine. Both now gone. I move south to woods after they pass. Who you? Where from, mouse, where?"

"I am Sky," Bhriina said, using her new name. She wasn't sure if she liked it, or if it suited her, but she was not willing to take the chance of someone recognizing her name as being that of the leader of the Coarc. "And I have no home."

"No home?" the kite questioned. "What you have then?"

Looking down at her midsection, Bhriina let out a puff of air. "I have this."

Eyes widening, May continued. "You with child!"

Bhriina nodded. "Do you have any knowledge of birthing? This baby is coming soon, and I am starting to worry. I fear for the child's life if I am not assisted." She winced, clenching her jaw. "Hell's teeth, this hurts!"

"Sorry, mouse. I do not," May confessed. "But I take you to beasts who do!"

For lack of better options, Bhriina agreed to this and allowed the kind kite to scrub away the blood from her fur and apply medicine to her many wounds.

"You very scraped up, mouse," May said.

Bhriina sighed. "That I am, May, that I am. I've been through a lot to get here."

As she said these words, she thought back and saw herself killing Matthias. Even then a small twang of guilt ran through her mind. She pictured the night which had produced her child, and how badly she had tried to end her husband. She thought back to murdering Ssar and Raginthia, just so she could escape. She remembered her emotions as she had let her dagger fall to the ground outside Salamandastron, and walked on into a new life. She had been through so much for this child. So many had died unknowingly for the future sake of this child, and now she was uncertain whether the child would even live past its first breath. She didn't care anymore about her own fate, only that of her unborn. Everything she did was to ensure the infant's safety. Bhriina knew deep down inside that the child would be important in the scheme of things, and that was why she had to try so hard to protect it. The pain now was excruciating, but she pushed through. Physical pain, both from her wounds and from her pregnant body, wracked her nerves and made her weaker with every passing minute. Mental pain, from the hundreds of nasty deeds she had done, slowly crept through her like a fox on the hunt. And lastly spiritual pain, the pain of wanting to believe, wanting to _know _just who she was. Was she Bhriina, leader of the Coalition of Anti-Redwall Corsairs and a vermin at heart, or was she more than that? Was she Sky, a hopelessly lost wanderer in search of hearth and home? Or was she something else, something without a name, a force? A force with a drive against Covodre, or something else perhaps? Something intangible? What defined her?

She had been through so much, and under normal circumstances by now would have given in. She would be dead by now, she knew. But she kept going.

For the child, she thought, gritting her teeth as the hawk's talons grazed her side whilst applying medicine.

For the child.


End file.
